We Only Belong To Each Other
by Popoli007
Summary: Anthony struggles to maintain his duty after stumbling a revelation from his trusted mentor. To his dismay he also figures out a feeling brewing through the years about his subject and friend: Ian. And unknown to him, a forthcoming danger was about to test the limit of his will and power. Ianthony.
1. Chapter 1 - Your Old Self

**Hello everyone! This is my first ever fanfic about Ianthony. I haven't included this introductory part when I first uploaded my piece (baka!). Anyway this is about Ianthony, but on a different universe. I don't know how hardcore fans out there would feel about this type of story but I do hope they'll like it. This will be a multi-chapter story which would heavily focus on Ian and Anthony's characters' development and the situation they are in. I'm a bit cryptic and gradual when building the story, so please bear with me when I tend to detail out as much as each characters' new roles in this story. Also others might wonder why I rated this as "M", simply because there would be explicit content on later chapters, which God forbids me I might not tone down the contents (just kidding, I'll use my best judgment to include explicit content as acceptable as possible). But don't worry there would always be warning when those specific chapters are uploaded. Lastly, the characters in my mind is technically Ian Andrew Hecox and Daniel Anthony Padilla, however if you read this chapter, their names are quite different. I decided to do this in order for it to be relative to the universe they existed. Hope you'll enjoy! (^_^)/**

 **CHAPTER 1: YOUR OLD SELF**

Anthony watched intently as the sun gradually hid its smile across the thin blanket of clouds. It was a bit hazy this day, he thought. A weak stint of breeze blew across his face giving him brief comfort. Whilst being entranced by the stillness of the place he still puts on his routinely hiding and detecting skills. Even if it was Silent Harrow, the safest place he could ever imagine, he did what he's supposed to anyway.

This turned out to be a habit rather than a duty, he surmised. Being a Sentinel, he is in constant lookout to scan his surroundings. He can do it normally and efficiently thanks to his unforgiving training years ago. The years of ordeal had taught him to exceed expertise against standards. It was strangely contrasting of him. This is because he was more childish and carefree in reality. At least when he's around his _subject_.

That was before. But was it? Nothing seems too different at all. But there's always a fine line between. He knows how to tread back and forth between those lines. He did it very well…and very carefully.

His strength however remained untested. Though he possesses immense powers and impressive skills, he had not engaged in a real battle yet.

Monitoring his surroundings was much easier now. Scanning was undeniably clearer, even when his eyes are closed. People walking by, insects chirping, birds hopping, cats tiptoeing, trees leaning, grass dancing, children prattling, they were all crystal clear and easy to predict. Although there were hundreds of them, heck even thousands, he can tell right away that each movement was unique from the other. He was fused to his surroundings.

Then a particular movement was very familiar to him. He wore a smile and shifted his phase towards the exterior of an old but aesthetically lavish building. This was an archive sector of Silent Harrow's private school. Humongous as it seems, the building endured generations of Hipstein legacy.

There were tons of ancient stuffs. Very old, dusty and annoying, he mused. Most of all…books. _Is he done already?_

As Anthony thought nonchalantly, a boy of almost his same age trotted towards him, beaming.

"I got it!" he sighed.

"Perhaps I could just throw it anyway. But I literally don't know what's in it." He muttered.

"Well not everything in your brain is collected yet, so you definitely need it." Anthony joked.

Ian squinted over him and ignored the pun. "What should we eat?" Ian asked, sounding exasperated and bored, gesturing quickly from his wristwatch.

"Uhm…Pizza?" Anthony suggested absentmindedly.

"Hell yeah! I got to take myself some Burittos too!" Ian exclaimed, sounding very excited.

He made a mistake. Anthony just watched him as Ian's crystal blue eyes glinted with enthusiasm. It was not like they rarely eat pizza nowadays, but he knows that Ian would insist to buy it _somewhere else_. It wasn't until now that this became an issue to him.

Ian innocently grinned at him, creasing his brows clumsily, with his attention all over Anthony.

"I really don't' mind okay? We just have to be quick." Anthony lied.

"Oooh what? You suggested it!" Ian teased. Anthony didn't argue. He just nodded.

Ian triumphantly sneered, reaching his hands over his friend's shoulders and walking towards their car.

It always bothers Anthony a bit when taking Ian outside the Silent Harrow. He always felt a bit uneasy or somewhat strangely awkward when heading outside.

It has always been fine being inside the estate, except that they had to avail deliveries often thanks to Ian's relentless nagging to buy take-outs. It was completely out of Ian's character to just stay secluded. Thus Anthony always expects foreign stuffs. _He's just so weird_ , he thought. _Besides what the fuck are my cooking skills for anyway?_ Anthony gallingly thought to himself.

 _He's more drawn over these crap take-outs than my home cooking, which I could say so myself is far superior than any other restaurant take-outs._

Anthony drove. Ian scanned Anthony quickly, looking for evidence of protest specked across his face. But all he can see was an apathetic visage, adjacently focused away from him. Anthony noticed this and quickly painted an admonishing smirk.

"Don't even freaking get those huge tomato slices on my item huh?" Anthony declared.

Ian was quick to banter, sniggering over the idea and flashing his bearded smile towards his friend. Anthony just shook his head.

No one knew, at least for Ian, that Anthony despises, with all his heart, tomatoes. He finds them plainly disgusting when raw. He loves tacos but would repeatedly remind any restaurant they visit to exclude them. He would even double or triple check their meal once served. Ian just love to joke and prank him about it.

"It's seems you don't complain but I can't shake the feeling that you don't want to go outside again. It's not like you'll say no because I still win but…" Ian gestured, scribbling his hands in the air towards Anthony, almost like depicting something about him. "This aura you emit dude." Ian shrugged.

 _There he goes_. Anthony regretted. He thought that he could finally shake off the disagreement he felt and just go on Ian's way but he was just witty enough to press the issue. He's careful enough not to upset Ian. But his erratic behavior makes it difficult for him to elude such issue. Whatever psychic ability this bowl-haircut, blue-eyed, mischievous kid has, just keeps on penetrating his thoughts.

"Not really. I just thought you liked my cooking better." Anthony flatly stated.

Ian grinned smugly.

"It'll be alright Ant." He tapped Anthony's shoulders.

Unknown to Anthony as much as Ian wanted to eat lunch at home he just wanted to spend more time with him outside. The bustling people, frenzied sounds of vehicles and buzzing drive of society around fulfills Ian. It keeps him alive. It preserves his sanity. It keeps Anthony strangely close to him.

For fifteen years, Ian always felt confined inside Silent Harrow. Anthony is frequently reminded that whatever Ian wants should be tolerated. It is the only genuine compensation he can truly have from his cursed life. Anthony takes it seriously and would do anything to keep him always happy.

Even when danger is imminent he has to improvise. Not that for so very long that he encountered one a real threat to Ian's safety, but he is constantly heedful. The very thought that he hasn't stumble upon a real danger is what makes him actually apprehensive. The unknown. Who's there? Eyes are always watching, lurking, patiently waiting. Vigilance was embedded in his subconscious mind.

Maybe the fact that he is so good at observing things around him probably keeps these " _unknowns_ " at bay. He was prudent enough to keep that job consistent until now. Aside from being worried he has to seamlessly hide this from Ian. Any form of agitation would distract him, because Ian, whilst being arrogant and ingenuous, can be very observant too.

 _Relax_. Just be watchful. Multi-tasking is just a piece of cake. It's like flashing Tumblr: scroll, like and reblog. Stay calm, observe and do not over analyze. That's it!

Lately, Anthony has the newest intel gathered. The source is indisputable—Michael. This is the second time that Michael personally visited him to share information about a looming threat.

Previously, the probability was just around 40%, but now? It shoots to 65%. It's 35% shy to becoming a prominent danger. Also, Michael is a guy a Sentinel or a Guardian shouldn't doubt. Besides, he was the guy from the very beginning. Anything he says is not baseless. Except that he hated him now.

Other than that, Anthony belongs to the oldest family serving under the Hipstein. Heck even one of the most trusted elite family affiliated to the Hipstein. Born as Anthony Rosnil Heightal, Michael saw the exact character and skill he possessed to hold custody and protection of the 15th successor to date: Ian Andrew Lorien Hipstein.

 _Relax_. He reminded himself again. This is not just any unknown shit looming over somewhere. Remember the hell you've been through with the old guy? Those life and death missions? Those were just out of this world! And even if hell breaks loose over the human world you'll stand your ground and protect Ian.

One of Michael's training phases for Sentinels was a gruesome mission that could mean life or death. It was something that tested both his limits and will. And this explains why Anthony's powers, and any other Sentinel before him, are on a completely different level compared to Guardians. The very fact that his job is neutral across the affairs of Hipstein makes him the guy you don't want to mess with. It was a hidden trick Michael molded throughout generations.

"H-Hey! I thought we should go after the pizza first." Ian interjected, furrowing his brows while pointing at the pizza parlor they just passed by.

 _Shit!_

Anthony thought he would stutter but he collected himself "I just wanted my tacos to be clean of tomatoes…"

 _Yey! Great excuse you dickhead!_

Ian just frowned, ignoring him. "Whatever man, I just wanted that pizza. Besides it would be much better to have it ordered already before we get tacos. You know the prep time for that right?"

When Anthony wasn't answering, Ian pressed. "Are you even listening to me?"

 _Fuck! Come on! Think!_ Anthony panicked a bit. Through gritted teeth he muttered finally "It's like your telling me you don't like my cooking." He went on. He didn't really want to say it, except that the words came out already before he could stop it.

Ian looked at him moping. "That's not true."

Anthony sensed that the lack of fervor in Ian's voice when debating against him made him think that he might have upset him.

"I love your guacamole. I just wanted pizza…and…just take-outs." Ian continued.

"I'm not mad. Forget it. That's not what I meant." Anthony explained.

Ian gazed at him for a few seconds, looking quizzical and finally he just rolled his eyes and said lazily "Whaateeever dude." Ian then turned to switch the radio on, listening to Panic! At The Disco.

Anthony quietly sighed.

They went to the drive through and there were three cars queuing before them. Ian shot Anthony an unimpressed look. Anthony shrugged, and they both tuned in "Sitting in the drive through! Sitting in the drive through! Sitting in the drive through! Sitting in the drive through!" and it went on comically. It has been a casual tedium-killing spree for them to sing the "Sitting in the drive through" chant until they are already talking to an obscurely, raspy voice box.

After they ordered tacos and burritos, they went to fetch their pepperoni pizza and decided to eat at a nearby plaza. It was surprisingly quiet. Filled with few people strolling around. They sat on a green bench made of intricate metal design and wooden carvings. Sitting next to it were bunch of protruding snake plants neatly arranged. In front of them stood a roundish marble fountain, gushing water to form a mushroom-like umbrella shape, with erratic streams of water spitting alternately in circular motions around it.

"First bite of this, deliciously delayed pepperoni pizza! Arrrhmmm!" Ian punned. Gobbling a huge bite of the cheesy pepperoni pizza while haughtily eyeing Anthony who wore an uninterested look. Ian chuckled.

"First bite of these tomato-freed, meaty, Mexican tacos! ARGHHMMM!" Anthony shot Ian an approving look. Ian shook his head.

"So…does that burrito pass your standard?" Anthony asked good-humoredly, eyeing the burrito laid in front of him.

Ian was still chewing when he took out his arm and placed it beside the burrito. When he saw that the food's size matched his arm's size he widened his eyes towards Anthony. Ian approves, almost like he wanted to stamp a seal of quality for that matter.

"As I said…" Ian stammered.

"Do not talk when your mouth is full." Anthony interrupted.

Ian chewed quickly and took a huge gulp. Opening his mouth to show Anthony that it was empty. Anthony frowned.

Ian continued talking "As I said earlier, this book is just compressed with fillers. Nothing too surprising. I hate history." He prodded the book he got a few minutes ago.

To his dismay Ian was still forced to read the background of Irish History. This version of text book however looks mediocre for him, not the least remarkable. But many suggested it. Most of the professors in Silent Harrow do. But he was just not convinced. Out of respect however he still reads it. This is where his natural talent comes in display.

Ian, like his predecessors, is naturally intelligent. He may be acting childish and conceited but what sets him apart across his generation was his unsurpassed intelligence. His maturity is twice than his regular age. However this is what his cursed life creates an impediment to his normal life. He gets tired easily. He is incredibly susceptible from any illness, plus his body stamina quickly ages. Though he may not look old, he _actually_ feels old.

The two continue to discuss about the book and when Ian was about to grab another slice he let out a little whimper of pain. Either he was busy scrutinizing the book or his hasty, gauchely hand darting towards the pizza made him fail to notice a threatening sharp edge of the pizza box.

"Ow! Fuck!" Ian hissed. His right hand's lower left palm side was bleeding.

Anthony's heart momentarily stopped. "Shit!" he said.

"It's nothing…" Ian muttered grabbing a tissue.

"What the hell do you mean it's nothing? You're fucking bleeding!" Anthony spat, taking out his handkerchief.

It was at this moment that Ian stopped debating. He looked somewhere exultant but somber. The very sight of Anthony freaking out of him getting hurt was heartwarming but this was happening somewhat exaggeratingly frequent. He can't figure out how Anthony slowly turns out like this. When they were still young he was never like that. He would just calmly look for help and care for Ian the rest of the day. But right now all he can see was an overprotective, almost paranoid friend.

He remembered the time when he and Anthony had serious conversation with Michael. Michael told them about their true existence. Why Ian has a personal bodyguard. Why he feels a bit different compared to normal humans. Why Anthony felt he is different from others and that he needs the specific mentorship of Michael. Why there may be people out there who are after Ian's life. Why they had to together forever.

 _Maybe that's it? But that was even before he was acting normally like my Sentinel. He would not freak out crazily. And most of all over these simple things?_

"Your hand is glistening with blood." Anthony mumbled, quickly drawing his handkerchief. He wrapped it tentatively around Ian's left hand and began to rummage his sling bag for some sterilized band aid.

Ian sighed and declared "Who the hell gets wounded from the sides of a pizza box?" He tried to lift Anthony's spirit with the side comment but realized his friend was too busy patching him up.

"That's fine already." Ian assured.

Anthony shot him a glance and finished up placing the band aid. He knows where this is going now and he dreaded it. The argument in the past almost blew, he thinks it may right now.

There was few seconds of silence.

Only the ruffling of food wrappers was audible, at least between the two of them.

People casually walk around. Ian stared raptly towards Anthony who looked down, focused on the pizza box.

Finally, Ian asked curiously. "Why are you always like this?"

"Like what?" Anthony replied, faking a perplexed tone.

Ian raised his head. Gaze a bit of his surrounding and returned his attention to Anthony. Biting his lip he said "You've been really overreacting about things happening around me. It even elevated to the point that even if a mosquito bit me you would murder it pitilessly."

Anthony remained silent. He hoped Ian was joking but he's not.

"I don't understand exactly what is going on with you. You weren't like this when we were still around seven?" he paused.

"I can't understand the shift in your protectiveness. It's just…so out of place man." Ian said, wiping his mouth with tissue, eyes glued to Anthony.

"I've got a very reliable intel..." Anthony trailed, but before he can continue Ian cut him off.

"I get that. It happened once. That is the real threat to my safety. I get it dude. You always improvise. You find ways and I appreciate that. What I'm pointing out here Anthony is that you easily lose your composure when small things like this happen. I mean what" Ian hesitated, scratching the back of his right ear.

"…where did that came from? Is there something bothering you? Because, if this continues you'll have to tell me right now what is really going on Anthony." Ian finished. He never shifted his gaze from Anthony, absentmindedly rubbing his left thumb over the band aid he applied to his right hand wound.

Anthony breathed heavily and let out a heave of sigh. "I'm sorry if I've been really awkward lately. These things that are after you…" When Ian was about to cut him again, he immediately pressed his sentence disabling Ian from intercepting.

"Let me finish okay? Hear me out." he said, looking at Ian intently.

Ian nodded, signaling him to continue.

"Probably it has gotten to the point that I never encountered something that defied my true responsibility to you…" he trailed off.

"Such thing is not necessary Ant…" Ian slipped.

"It's out of the context, what I meant is a bit different." Anthony explained further, pausing for a moment and scratching his chin.

"You look so…you know…vulnerable. I can't stand it. Not that I'm telling you you're weak and that I'm so fed up caring for you. But that…the sight of seeing you getting easily cut by some stupid pizza box and the rest of simple silly things that might hurt you…just constantly worries me." Anthony swallowed; staring at Ian's perfectly crystal blue eyes which turned almost gray.

"Probably I'm not acting normal anymore, but I'm a Sentinel. Your Sentinel. That's what I lived for. That's my very purpose…" Anthony stopped when Ian slightly raised his left hand, signaling him to just stop.

"That still doesn't explain much why you're overreacting. I just got a cut from a pizza box, is that really a big of a deal? Here's the thing Anthony." Ian shifted his position, leaning closer to him.

"When you're around me just behave like your old self okay? You were so good at that when we were young. Bring me back the Anthony you used to be. You can hang out with me always without worrying too much! Anxiety kills you know? I'm living a very short life here, but I don't care, because what matters the most are each seconds of our lives, just being _us_." Ian said softly, frowning and finally gave Anthony a reassuring smile.

Another moment of deadpan silence.

"Okay. Let's just forget about this dramatic bullshit and finish our lunch." Anthony said, painting a smile across his face and darting a glance over their food and to Ian.

When Anthony immediately pressed down the sides of the pizza box, Ian sighed mentally, closing his eyes in disappointment. But when Anthony was about to look at him he quickly faked an impassive face, trying to tear Anthony's mindset if he was indeed frustrated or unconcerned.

At the back of Ian's mind, something tells him that Anthony was still hiding things. But he surrendered for a moment. He was tired already. Mentally and physically. He said it himself, anxiety kills. He doesn't want one. His life is too short to make a tall order for that.

Anthony grabbed a slice of pizza, munched it while observing Ian. At this moment his mind drifted back to the past. To the not so distant past that spilled all the revelations Ian's family has yet to reveal. They were revelations that introduced changes and discovery Anthony didn't truly expect.


	2. Chapter 2 - Subdued and Upset

**So I've decided to focus on this time shift. Don't get confused, everything will settle and gets connected. I've got a hard time doing the next chapter though. I'll probably focus on the third wheel where things gets darker. Or may be where Anthony learns the slow but sure way of figuring out what's going on inside his heart. I just had the nice cover for this story, but I'm still figuring out the best way to edit the image, plus I have to ask permission to the owner. Oh dear God. I've drawn a long time ago. Dunno if this shaky hands still works, gotta work over that.**

 **CHAPTER 2: SUBDUED AND UPSET**

"This is how your _subject_ was meant to endure. There's nothing you can change about it. Let it go." Michael said with an apathetic finality in his tone.

There had been always a fine line between emotions and competence. Anthony had balanced well these two factors. Even as young as seven, when he instantly became what he's meant to be, his body and mind seem to act naturally for it. He doesn't question. He doesn't complain. But after his final trial with Michael his world came spiraling down.

He was confused. Utterly bewildered, beginning to silently question things. Smart as he was, he knows that this will eventually come. But he can't imagine how it sounds, how it felt. That Michael intended him to know _it_. It was the most important part of his job's institution. But he was hurt. He felt helpless and pissed.

But that was not it. There was something else that always bothered him. He realized this when he was nineteen. He kept it. Undiscovered, harbored deep inside the complex recesses of his personality. However, it slowly seeped out, causing him to unknowingly do what he is doing right now. And one closest person notices. Ian.

And it all adds up. He felt restless, depressed and…angry.

It irks him to his core that nothing in his powers could alter Ian's fate. Ian—his _subject_ , his brother and his best friend. The one he needs to secure until _that day_ is fulfilled. It's so discomforting and disquieting that you cannot choose both delicate things. It frustrates him and his anger rose to the point of bursting into pure rage and destruction. He feels like he could destroy the whole world but knows that nothing can alter a fate designed by something that technically gave him insurmountable powers.

Michael watches him vacuously but with a tad bit of caution and concern.

"Do not do this Anthony. Calm down."

"He's meant to endure this? You…y-you expect me to fucking understand that?" Anthony shakily responded. His voice trembling, tinted with sadness and resentment.

And through gritted teeth he whispered "You manipulated us…you played around people's life. _He_ is not like a sheep nurtured just to be butchered in the end…" He trailed off. "You don't care at all about what we feel..."

Michael gazed at him, unperturbed. "It is not…"

Before Michael could finish his sentence, one swift motion made him raise his hand. Almost as if a soundless draft of wind passed, Anthony vanished in sight reappearing instantly in front of Michael, delivering a concentrated powerful blow. His left hand formed into a tight fist, coiled with ceaseless spiral of wind coursing through its target. The ground shook. The myriad of wind twisting through his fist and unto its target crushed the ground, sending off vicious blades of gusts cutting everything around.

Needless to say though, Michael coolly stared at Anthony as if he already expected it. With just his right hand, Michael defended himself, cupping Anthony's fist with flawless timing. None of the clumsy squall of winds landed any damage to him. It was as if he has an invisible shield or the blades can't determine the target.

Anthony knows well that he doesn't even add up to a single digit percentage of Michael's true strength. He knows well that this monster is an epitome of otherworldly madness. He comprehends that whatever powers he learned from his training, whether he improves it drastically from the years to come, he is still no match for him. He understood this monstrosity's origins. But then with this single punch…just this single focused hit would deliver him the message.

Anthony doesn't care anymore if Michael retaliates. It is his only way of releasing his grief and fury. It is his only way of telling this guy that he found a reason to be genuinely human. It is his way of reminding him that their feelings as a means for this _contract_ are existent and not to be toyed with.

Few of the family soldiers came rushing to the scene. Michael raised his right hand, reassuring them that everything is under control, although the manor where they are could almost collapse.

Michael slowly, steadily supported Anthony's fist, suppressing the flurry of winds wildly tearing around them.

"It is not that I don't care." He said finally.

"But you and the rest of the Sentinels should understand the most. You can attack me all you want, I will not fight back. That is my answer. That there is nothing you can do nor _I can do_."

Anthony didn't budge for a moment. Finally he collected himself. He glared at Michael. His eyes were reflecting, still unconvinced. Slowly, Anthony turned and walks away.

"I am repenting Anthony…eternally." Michael added.

Anthony stopped but refused to look at him.

All this time the mentor he looked up to was now the most spiteful person he could ever hate. The revulsion he feels might even be greater towards Michael compared to any future opponent.

* * *

Dusk was creeping. Anthony texted Ian that he'll be late for a few minutes. He already confided to him that he'll be meeting Michael for some _important_ stuff. That it'll be just for a few moments.

His mind was still wrecked. All this confrontation makes him sick. And to his dismay, Ian was waiting. He can't let Ian see him like this. Closing his eyes he gathered his thoughts. _Calm down._

When Anthony wipes off a stray bug on his forehead he noticed the dried streaks of tears across his face. _He was crying_. His heart burned, clenching his right hand over the steering wheel of his car. For this moment he let out some muffled sobs. This time he knows he was crying. He doesn't care. It was the only way to cease the pain from killing him inside. He drove slowly so as to let the tears completely fade.

Anthony was not very worried being away from Ian since he's at home. The house they moved in since they were eleven. Their parents used to visit them but most of the time it's just the two of them. They were accustomed to live together. After all, their case was especially different.

He finally arrived. The house was lit glumly, until he saw few more lights coming to life. _Maybe he slept again._

Anthony parked his car outside instead of heading straight to the garage. He fetched his jacket and car keys and begun trotting towards their house. His eyes were on the ground, tentatively thinking. He saw Ian standing in front of their door, expecting him.

Ian was clad in black and red sweatshirt which Anthony identified to be the one his mother knitted for Ian's 17th birthday. _He always feels cold._ Anthony thought. He also wore a pair of white and light blue pajamas and umber flip flops. Anthony was also quick to notice that he was wearing thick-rimmed glasses.

"You were reading?" Anthony said sounding slick.

Ian peered, pouting his lips, faking the look of dismay on his face. "We have no food. I'm hungry…" He said weakly.

Anthony chuckled. There were tons of things he stored in the house to make homemade food, but Ian is clueless as a dumb prick when it comes to cooking. Sure he can probably fry something like an egg or bacon but Anthony explicitly told him to wait for him.

 _Plus he always hurt himself._

Anthony went inside the house playfully brushing Ian's bowl shaped hair and said "I'll cook, the quickest one."

"And there he is! He does cooking for me! Hehe." Ian proclaimed, raising his hands in the air and making a derp expression.

"You want me to help?" Ian offered.

"No dude. I got this. Just relax yourself. This'll be in a minute." Anthony said while rummaging inside their fridge. Ian slouched on the sofa, found the remote and turns the television.

Anthony grabbed some green and yellow bell peppers and white onions. In the freezer he yanked an unopened package of Hungarian sausage and homemade burger patties. He set them in the kitchen sink and went on to look for some expert utensils in a cubbyhole for grilling.

"You're grilling those?" Ian eagerly asked when he saw Anthony prepped an indoor plate grill. He stood with his knees in the sofa turning towards Anthony, slightly crouching and looking childish.

"Yeah." Anthony replied shooting a nippy glimpse at Ian. He can't help notice how silly and cute he looks when he's perched childishly on the sofa. When he returned his gaze to take a second good look, Ian was already standing, treading towards him, to which he focused back to slicing the bell peppers and onions.

Ian went to open a small cupboard on top of the kitchen sink to fetch some hamburger and hotdog buns. After he set some plates on the table were Anthony was slicing the vegetables, he asked him.

"You want the sesame ones?"

"Yeah." Anthony replied.

"I don't want them." Ian remarked, drawing a smug grin.

"Why not? They're better." Anthony challenged.

Ian held a sesame-sprinkled hamburger bun and commented "It's…messy, look at that! Seeds scattered everywhere! Ugh!"

Anthony frowned, shaking his head.

Ian allocated one hamburger and two hotdog buns on each of the two plates. He was about to get a bread knife when Anthony stopped him.

"Let me do that." Anthony mumbled, snatching the knife away from Ian's hand.

Ian frowned and shrugged, rested his arms on the table and watched Anthony keenly.

"What's on the news?" Anthony inquired listlessly.

Ian turned his head to the television and told him that some dude was accused of monopolizing a certain drug that displays high chance of alleviating HIV and some other form of worst illness. It was ridiculous. He narrated as how this guy managed to buy the rights over someone and made the price of the medicine skyrocket in no time.

"Fucking capitalist cunt." He cursed through gritted teeth.

Anthony chuckled. Placing the patties and sausage on the grill plate and prepared the vegetables.

Anthony seemed to be disinterested about the news and instead asked Ian how he was doing at school. He forgot to ask him this earlier because he headed immediately to Michael's presence.

"Nothing new. Likewise, my personal professor, all of them, keeps on shoving me these bland books." Ian complained.

"What's wrong with them?" Anthony asked.

"It's the same old content dude. I've read a bunch already. Why do they keep on insisting more? I mean sure it's a different author. Maybe that author might have some different perspective for the topic I'm well aware of. But to me, it's the very least of concern I could ever think of. It's suffocating already." Ian scowled.

"Don't get too cocky okay?" Anthony punned.

"Whatever man." Ian retorted.

"Tea or coffee?" Anthony offered.

"Tea…" Ian replied and continued prattling. "I was lately hooked to this Song of Ice and Fire novels. I'm at the fourth book already. I was about to finish a fifth chapter of Aria's perspective…"

"Is that why not all the lights are up outside because you were busy reading?" Anthony interrupted.

"Ah yeah" Ian chortled. "I was so hooked to it when I heard your car outside and realized it's already dusk. Is there a problem?" Ian asked quizzically, furrowing his brows.

"No…no, nothing really." Anthony snorted, shifting the burger patties and sausages with tongs and mixing the vegetables. He shot a glance over the brewer for his coffee. It was not a problem for him to drink coffee when it's already evening. Ian preferred tea, which he states makes him "warm and fuzzy".

Soon, Anthony finished grilling and laid everything so he and Ian can finally start eating their dinner. He was starving too, and the meeting with Michael was nerve-racking. He was annoyed again for bringing back that memory. He shook it off. When he's angry he's hungry.

The two were quiet for a moment, busy munching their food.

"There are few things I wanted to shop for tomorrow." Ian said, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve but stopped when Anthony absentmindedly offered him tissue.

"Just give me the list and we can have it delivered." Anthony suggested.

"Awww, no dude, I want to go outside!" Ian grumbled. Disappointment flaunted in his face. He held out his left hand and nudged Anthony's right arm, sounding and looking like a spoiled brat. "Please?" he pleaded.

The moment Anthony saw Ian's crystal blue eyes his heart shrank. Ian was just making a derp face, but for Anthony it was always uplifting.

 _What the fucking fuck?_

"O-okay." Anthony quickly replied, apparently defeated.

He hated the fact that every time Ian begged for something he had to mistakenly stare straight to his piercing blue eyes. This elicited a momentary roll inside his stomach. His heart pounded shortly. _What is this?_

He can't tell. It was few years back then. But he was always indeterminate. _Did he felt the same?_ Anthony can't tell. Ian always wore the same innocent, brother-like attitude. He never knew what's behind that complacent, clumsy smile.

Anthony did the dishes. He noticed that Ian turned the television off and returned to the table beside the kitchen, sipping another cup of tea. Anthony didn't like Ian doing the dishes because he was just plain ham-fisted. There was never a year that they had to change a piece or two of mug and plate or whatever fragile things. He will always break something and sounded like a law of nature.

"You have butterfingers." Anthony teased him. Ian only shrugged.

After he did the dishes, Ian darted straight to his room. Anthony looks nonplussed, but ignored him. He always had strange streaks of what he called "freak swings". He went instead to his own room and begun grooming himself. It's always comfortable to sleep when you're out fresh from the bathroom. He's frazzled. He remembered Michael again. _That monster!_ Frowning, he began filling the tub with scalding hot water. His nerves were knotted. At least a couple of minutes of hot bath would ease his depression. He assumed that Ian was still inside his room, probably writing something.

He pondered over the fact how scary Michael actually is.

Michael Islever Endthsend. His complete fucking name is rare music for somebody else's ears. He was the guy from the very beginning. He's immortal. _No you silly!_ But he can't deny the fact that Michael outlived fifteen generations of these Hipstein successions. He mentioned sometime that the Founder was kind and sympathetic to accept the fate he dealt with in the past. And he thought how stupid the Founder truly was for letting this ridiculous successorship proceeded at Michael's behest.

But those were just immature thoughts he had. Deep inside him he actually felt sad for Michael. His past was a lot darker and bluer than he thought. He bargained a lot from _that_ , to keep the family from crumbling. He succeeded but at a cost.

 _And you would really go so far as to achieve that objective?_

A questioning thought reverberated inside his mind.

How much can a man sacrifice just to achieve that? Anthony knows that what Michael truly wanted was probably plausible, at least for any closest constituent of this family. But to reach that objective through this path?

Anthony was torn into thinking that the route Michael was striding was vindictive or partly justifiable. He shook his head. Streaks of wet raven hair draped across his face. He hated that guy. He detested him for putting him in this situation, for thinking too much.

Seconds later, he cleared his mind and savored the luxury of his hot tub.

After doing the rest of his priming, he wore a pair of black boxer shorts and dark red sleeveless shirt. He suddenly noticed that Ian was sitting at the edge of his bed. He almost jumped. Ian looked puzzled from Anthony's surprised gesture. He was carrying a huge pillow placed at his lap with a piece of paper on top of it.

"Where you there all this time?" Anthony sighed loudly.

"I just got in." Ian replied, unruffled, ignoring the fact that he scared the hell out of his Sentinel.

Anthony is confused on the fact that even though he can sense everything around him, he can't sense Ian. He has to rely on his natural instincts for keeping him under watch. It is the very reason why all Sentinels should not leave their _subject's_ side. The only exception probably would be when their inside Silent Harrow. Moreover Michael revealed that he is the only one that can sense their location, even miles away. It was something the _contract_ did.

"Look, I had this list already. It seems a lot but I need them." Ian said flatly, holding in two hands the piece of paper.

Anthony sighed.

"Also…" Ian trailed.

"What?" Anthony asked impatiently.

"Can I sleep here?"

"Again?" Anthony noticed that, with the tinge of his voice, it made Ian lower his gaze towards his room's gray carpet rug.

"It's fine…are you cold?" Anthony said softly.

Ian only nodded.

"I can't sleep alone in my room again." Ian recalled.

"Bad dream?"

Ian shrugged.

When Anthony encouraged him to sleep and was about to put the lights off, he wore a tired smile. A relief, he guessed.

Besides, the timing was quite appropriate. Anthony was really sad after his encounter with Michael. He just found out that his best friend's soul was promised to _something_. He could be out there rampaging for all he care, but he thought it selfish. Instead of wasting his untested powers he needs to be at Ian's side. Always.

" _You would fucking sacrifice his soul to that goddamn demon?"_

" _Yes."_

" _You're not serious are you?"_

" _Yes, I am."_

"…"

" _It is the only way to end this…"_

" _For fifteen generations and you're not even sure if it ends? How many of him would suffice for this contract? How many!?"_

The rueful voice and angered ones continued vibrating in his head, slowly fading, lost in the darkness of his thoughts and the mute evening.

All Anthony wanted right now was to wrap his arms around his best friend. Embrace him like there's no tomorrow, so no harm will comes his way. If he can exchange his life for him he would, but then it will never happen.

Anthony can sense that even though Ian was facing the other side, clutching his huge pillow, he was asleep. Anthony can't resist. He shifted towards Ian moving his left arm to tenderly reach him. Ian stiffened but didn't protest. Then Anthony slid his right arm between Ian's head and shoulders searching for his right hands. They met. Anthony clasped Ian's cold right hand lightly, gradually applying heat. Anthony's head was so close to Ian's that the other can feel his hot but soothing breath drifting behind his temples. Ian didn't object. He even budged backward a bit to feel Anthony's stomach touching his back. With this, Anthony advanced his left arm to search for Ian's left hands. They met. The warmth of Anthony's touch was complete. It was as if they were one. The closure seems unbreakable.

It felt a little different this time. Ian was sure that the moment Anthony placed his arms around him and reached for his hands he felt his melancholy. He was subdued and upset.

Ian't didn't bother too much. He was cold. He needed Anthony.


	3. Chapter 3 - Until His Afterlife

**Jeez. I finally uploaded the next one. As I've told before this was pretty a difficult chapter to write. First thing, I really got a hard time to write a situation that involves character whose image is not clear in my mind. So I dig through carefully to create an inspiration for the newly introduced characters in this chapter. Some have inspirations and some are purely drawn in my mind (I just can't find a person to fit their description). If you're bored for this chapter you can skip it. It doesn't talk too much of Ianthony, but I'm telling you that this has a grand merit to the later chapters. So sorry if it takes a while. Too frazzled by this deadlines, I'm also looking for a new place. Anyway before I go tangent there, there are few characters newly introduced in this chapter. Most of them are just formed in my mind but some had inspirations, by...well not really famous people. But I find them striking, most of them are in business world across the globe. Oh BTW, Michael Islever Endthsend's inspiration is Michael McElhatton, from Game of Thrones? Yeah, his that badass Roose Bolton. I don't know what's with him, but his enigmatic character just captured my attention and used him for my story, hehe.**

 **Two significant character on Ianthony's side introduced here are Alfred Streids Godswick (Sam Fisher) and Rob Townshale Wolfsvairne Hipstein (Tom Fawkes).**

 **Just find below the rest of the characters, I won't spoil much. Happy reading!**

 **CHAPTER 3: UNTIL HIS AFTERLIFE**

"You sure about this?" A well-built, bald, and slightly bearded man whispered, raising his brows, he asked for confirmation. He was seated in a flamboyant cushioned chair placed on the right side of the man he was conversing. He scratched the underside of his chin. His eyes were chillingly hollow. It left an impression that he's used to the highest form of grisliness the world has to offer.

"Yes." Said blankly by the man who was seated at the center adjacent to the bald guy who was asking him. Wearing a composed feature, his head never shifted. His gray steel eyes were directly focused on the two persons in front of him.

"Brother you know it has been a long time. Igniting another conflict would cost us so much. What makes you sure this will be an infallible move?" A girl seated on his left side argued. She wore what mistakenly could be a dress for an international girl-exclusive school. Her coarse, gray hair was ruffled but looked pleasantly nice for her aura. Her eyes were deep emerald, but glinted with concern and dissent. She is quite mature in reality, although she looks incredibly young and lively.

A man of the same hair color was seated beside her. Probably her sibling too. He remained unperturbed, quietly listening to the dialogue in the room.

Not too far from them was another man, leaning against the wall just beside the door located at the left side of the room. His hair was slick and black, brushed up appropriately to reveal his sturdy but expressionless face. His hard, brown eyes stared unflinching towards the center of conversation.

There were other four men securing certain spots inside the room. They customarily scrutinize the area and scan outside. All of them dressed casually in sweatshirts and leather jackets.

The man in the middle raised his hand, signaling the rest of the people to move out. All exited the room except for the two siblings, the bald man and the two persons directly in front of him.

An eerie silence filled the room.

"We should consider this more carefully…" the girl continued but was immediately interrupted by the man in the middle of the room. His face was rather straight-faced but his voice felt icy. The room felt suddenly enveloped by an authoritative air.

"Liz…" he trailed on. "When it comes to family…strayed thoughts always create compromises."

The sentence uttered by the man made Liz cautious of her next words. The boy seated next to her calmly observed. The bald guy and the two visitors remained silent. When Liz was about to talk she didn't direct it towards her brother but to the two persons seated in front of him.

"Your plans?" Liz inquired critically.

A man and a woman. Unmistakably, the man was blind after all. One would consider him ordinarily dressed. A quick acquaintance with him makes someone guess that a normal student was having a casual stroll around a plaza. But being inside the room of the Gades especially in the presence of Arthur Thrist, implies that his business is not mere passing a college examination. The boy remained silent, indicating that the woman beside him does the talking.

The woman was also offhandedly dressed. Her long brown hair reached the soft cushion of the sofa they were seated. Her eyes were elegantly amber. Despite garbed casually, her bright face was a sight to behold. Pale skinned, pink lips, an eminent beauty mark, striking eyelashes and glinting eyes, she needed no piece of jewelry to accentuate her overall splendor.

"They prefer it undisclosed." The bald guy answered.

Liz raised her brows and paid no attention to him. When she was about to utter her next inquisition, Arthur cut her, proceeded to converse with the siblings.

"Your brother…"

"He's in deep _thought_. No worries, it's an essential groundwork." Cross replied, her posture steady.

"My twin brother and I would serve as buffer for a moment." She continued.

"Brief us again when time comes." Arthur concluded.

With that the twins stood, paid their respects to Arthur and exited the room.

Soon, the slick and sturdy guy strangely isolated in the corner of the room earlier, entered. He and the bald guy escorted the twins outside. It was understandable that none of the other guards belonged to them. Gades has the resources that could almost equal the influence of the same leagues of family in Dublin. Unquestionably holding the rank amongst the North Irish Sphere, they had peace withheld for thousands of years. However, that peace was always clouded by connivance and competition, most of all…bad blood. The foul smell of it stretched across the ancient years of Dublin ancestry, even now.

"You understand how Cross and Azlirel would already suffice a frontal assault against their main line?" Arthur mused quizzically. Liz didn't initially conversed, but when she finally formed a thought, the other man besides her finally talked. His voice was rather gloomy, a less icy than his older brother Arthur. One can tell however that his demeanor was hardened by tough history, similar to Liz, whilst a quieter type.

"But they chose a harsher route…" Azlirel declared.

"That's right. They are…one could say truly gifted individuals. They are now using that gift for this _harsh route_ you say. Do you have an idea why they prefer that?" Arthur followed.

"To avenge their family." Liz answered.

"But why that _route?_ " Arthur continued asking cryptically.

"I believe it's personal." Liz guessed.

"You're probably right. But you understand now why it sparks my interest to lend a helping hand for these guys?" Arthur admitted.

"It's simply because Hipstein's Sentinel's are topics never to be touched again." Liz declared firmly. Her voice carries out an imminent divergence that was perceptible earlier.

"All of this war rooted from our family's conflict with Michael. Even though we gained knowledge that the heirs specially protected by Sentinels have a deep importance to Michael, history had taught us that they are exceedingly dangerous to deal with. However…" Arthur trailed, eyeing Liz intently, as to deliver a point as sharp as an arrow.

"These guys have an intricate past connected to Michael and would do anything to make him suffer."

"Like I've said it is indeed personal huh?" Liz confirmed. Arthur felt a pang of irritation from Liz's insistence. He knows that Liz would continue to be damn skeptical about his partnership. But Arthur understands her motivation to do so. He let out a deep sigh, controlling his impatience. Liz has always been supportive of him and he believes she's been stubbornly cynical because she loves him.

"I've met Aucelus." Arthur said calmly.

"Y-you did?" Liz asks, stressing her astonishment. She just found out that his brother already met the man behind the twins' impudent partnership with the Gades. Less to her annoyance for Arthur leaving her and Flint in the dark, she was now eager to know Aucelus. It perks her curiosity about the man willing to trample a Sentinel to exact vengeance against Michael.

"I saw unbent fortitude locked on those eyes. There may be abysmal uncertainty about the Sentinel's true capability but that man has a trump card hidden. I can tell."

Arthur stared intently at Liz for the first time after their meeting.

"You're still worried."

Liz dropped her gaze. There has been a grave reason why she's been incredulous about his brother's decision. She recalled the previous family skirmish. It caused a lot of harm and it scarred her permanently. Even before her time she read so many books and found tons of grisly stuff their ancestry endured. Both sides had damaged each other, and they kept on clashing for thousands of years. Now they decided to form a treaty. But connivance and mistrust is as sly as a fox. Politics always slips through the cracks. None of those agreed terms, signed parchments and cordial handshakes made that pact as pure as the hardest diamond in the world. It was always personal. It clothes itself in competitions, in surreptitious political maneuvering. Throughout time there was hope to preserve such peace. The generations that reigned seemed to surge well to the changes and acceptance of this harmony. It went on…until now, something's going to shake that silence again.

"I know that you don't intend to be fully engrossed with this. I believe you don't want something that would endanger our family. Whatever is your true objective for this partnership, please make sure it is purely business for them. Our personal attachments have been long passed. We can't afford to injure ourselves anymore." Liz muttered. Her straight-laced facial expression carried an air of respect and firmness which Arthur cannot deny.

"But if it's your life is on the line…" Liz trailed off.

"We would follow you even if it's hell." Flint finished. Liz's eyes constricted. Flint has always been a man of few words, but his heart was unquestionably loyal and dedicated. Liz and Arthur never doubted that.

"Just…just please be done with this professionally. No strings attached." Liz begged.

"Those twins remind me well of you two…" Arthur murmured. Liz and Flint remained silent, looking somber.

"I'm long done from that path. I'm just amused to witness what this newfound partnership can result to. I wonder how Michael would make his move." Arthur mused grippingly.

Despite Arthur's distinct authoritative reputation across his family, he never ceases to appreciate those who can be on his level of reason. Liz has been always open about her thoughts while Flint being silent but extremely loyal to the point of putting his life on the line for Arthur.

Arthur stood and strode across the room without a word. Liz and Flint followed. They all vanished in the darkness of the hall outside, leaving no space for travesty.

* * *

" _I have no business with you…"_ A man whispered. His face was directly in front of Aucelus, flashing an apathetic countenance almost menacingly. The two of them exchanged looked while time slowed magically. The clashing of force and wind ripples through thin space manifested in unbelievable dawdling detail. Each dust of particles was clear. Squall of winds rustle and faded in great sluggish frames. They were engulfed by a swirling vortex. Dangerous it may seem, it looked beautiful through combined light speed and reflexive time action. Slowly a blinding light overwhelm every bit of space around them.

It was particularly strange that Aucelus can't exactly tell the man's face. It was only blurred with light. Each time he focuses, the faintness seems to accentuate further. His voice however was noteworthy. At least with his vague silhouette, three pieces of evidence gave him valuable information: the phrase he utters, his remarkable power and his distinct voice.

Aucelus had broken his trance. His meditation is always at excellent condition that his thoughts flawlessly align his spirit gates. It opens more flexible and adaptive structure for his abilities. This moment however, that brief image was long and meaningful that it was hard to comprehend how a lot had transpired. It disrupted his phase of thoughts. He shook the premonition. He can't believe it crossed his mind again. His mind was trained well to resist foreign domination of foreboding. Was it an omen or just a hunch?

He remained still in his dark metallic red futon. His eyes scanned the pond sprawled in the backyard terrace. The only audible sounds were the intermittent humming of birds and chirping insects.

Few more days and he can finally achieve the greatest work of his life. A masterpiece he worked so hard. It was retribution that required necessary cost to succeed. The odds of his plan were a lot to consider but the success was a fixed formula. Nothing can hamper its advancement.

The clouds gleamed morosely. It painted a grayish sheet of sea. A faint trace of sunlight struggled to seep through the cloudy panes. Aucelus watch it intently. His mind always drifted to the possibilities of his past to merge with the present. He let go a deep sigh, putting off his weariness and fixed his resolve.

Aucelus' house may looked dilapidated but much to anyone's surprise it is pleasantly maintained. The roof reflected a parched but firmly rust-colored blanket of tiles. Few birds perched and played on top of it. The exterior façade was a lot melancholic than secretively intimidating. The pathway revealed a narrow expanse of half buried ornate bricks outlined with wild grass prematurely growing. What made Aucelus' home more misleading was its elaborate garden landscape stretching around their house. The architecture primed a more vegetable filled shrubbery, majority of it where flower blooming vegetations. The arrangement was neatly assembled that anyone would easily mistake it as a flower patch.

Outside the wooden gate two persons entered his domain. Judging by the phase of their walk and how they're dressed, they may be Aucelus' family or relative. After placing their shoes at the porch they proceed inside the house, placed their bags in the living room sofa and advanced through a hallway. Numerous rooms can be encountered. Stairs emanated from their left as they saunter through the foyer. They proceed further until they stumble upon a second living room. A man seated in a couch faced a patio, where a small pond and a garden spread out in front of him.

"Is it time now brother?" Cross asked. Her hair flaunted with delicate smoothness. Azlirel surveyed the house.

"You've met their siblings?" Aucelus replied, not facing them.

"They mirrored us a lot." Cross responded, her face unreadable. Aucelus beamed while sighing quietly.

"The old man gave it finally." Aucelus said, expecting quick response from them.

"He did? That's good." Cross muttered. However she can't deny a mix of excitement and hesitation. They've been working on this _project_. They were willing to risk everything. And now here it is. Finally.

Aucelus stood and went to seat on a sofa in the middle of the room. He was handsomely dressed in corporate attire. Baby blue sleeves, rosy tie, gray slacks and slick dark brown Weejuns. His Rolex watch glimmered momentarily when a faint light of the living room hit its fine crystal window and metallic bracelet. His ashen gray hair exhibited a fine docility and at some point it looks almost frosty white. His face was a striking sight. Although he looks old judging from his hair, his visage was vigorous and alluring. He shot a glance between the twins. His crystal blue eyes glinted with half fervor. Cross and Azlirel proceed to seat on the opposing couch. There is an empty glass table between them. Aucelus lay on the table what he obviously held in his left hand when he stood. It was wrapped in leather-like clothing strapped by brown plaited beige rope. Aucelus unknotted the cord and removed the clothe wrapping to reveal a miniature polished metal chest. Whilst it looked like any other lockbox it doesn't have any noticeable _lock_ in it.

Aucelus gazed his siblings a few seconds and returned his attention to the small chest.

"When I asked the old man for _these_ he hesitated for a few moments. You want to hear a story?" Aucelus inquired, when the two didn't protest he continued.

"A long time ago a couple used these artifacts to protect someone dear to them. Their daughter who was very important to the family's lord would soon inherit a throne that can mean heaven or hell. Soon, countless enemies of the lord connive to eliminate what was vital to them, believing it was the key to overthrowing his reign. Overwhelmed by their united powers the couple has no way to neutralize the danger they pose. Fortunately they learned the artifact's existence and the complexities of its properties. Along with it they also learned that it was a double-edge sword. It can be a tool to fulfill their wish at a cost. That tradeoff is weighed by the magnitude of the user's bid. The couple therefore used it as a final option if everything goes awry." Aucelus surveyed his twin brother and sister for any form of inquest. Upon seeing them attentively silent he continued.

"He said that these artifacts were forged eons ago in honor of a heroic demon who blessed their lands for good fortune and harvest. Actually it was a parting gift made by the heroic demon so that the people would remember him forever. As time passes the artifacts' character has been tainted. Its true merit is in question to the current generation. The old guys then decided to seal it, keep it deep inside the darkest recesses of their ancestral lands fearing that it may be used as a tool for destruction."

"Was their last resort fool-proof?" Cross asked interestingly, the eagerness in her voice evident, and Aucelus was sure he saw a flash of fiery but cautious fortitude in her amber eyes.

"It was. But it is remarkable that the wisdom passed from the old guys tells a possibility to counteract the artifacts' ability. But that is, if it is a powerful oath-driven will to defend. If you can calculate it, all the variability can be set off. But it has a fixed formula that cannot be countered by anything else in this world." Aucelus capably explained. He proceeds to reach the chest and found a rectangular concave oddly placed from where the lock was supposed to be. Aucelus focused his mind and slid his thumb through the spacing and in one fluid motion, swiped his thumb horizontally from left to right. It let out a second long metallic skimming sound then the small chest's lid opened. What lay inside astounded Cross.

A coal black dagger lay before her. Its blade, whilst fashioned like a double edge stiletto, looks clumsily serrated. Its material looked like a blackened smoky quartz crystal that glinted hideously. Its hilt formed a totally alien and intricate design. A dark metallic red gem-like material accentuated the portion of the hilt that extended to the bottom of the blade. Seemingly made of gold-like material, its fork-shaped hilt was closely reminiscent of an ancient family tied to their ancestors. But she couldn't figure out exactly what the origins of its design might exactly be. Judging from the handle, it may have been one of their constituent's works from the past. However she doubted it. They were scrutinizing a legendary artifact here. Nowhere, even from their direct descendants could alter a heroic demon's gift.

Cross remained quiet inspecting the artifact. Soon Aucelus reached for the chest and unlatched two locks juxtaposed on the dagger's sides. Cross, too focused on the dagger itself, didn't notice the locks. And it clicked to her that there were at least two of them since his brother was referring to them in plural. Aucelus then began lifting the dagger's crate and exposed a hidden compartment, of the same size and space as the first one. There lies another dagger of almost the same shape but with observable distinctions. Its blade color now is cloudy white and looks sharper. The hilt's design was almost the same except that the portion that extended to the blade is now encrusted with dark blue gemstone.

Aucelus shot a searching glance to Cross and Azlirel. Although Azlirel cannot see his crystal blue eyes, he sensed his foreboding. _This is it, there's no turning back._ Everything will soon be settled.

"This is the final point for our preparation. I won't be asking this anymore but I loved the two of you more than anything else in this world…" Aucelus trailed off. His heart shrank but his visage totally hid it.

"We are not withdrawing." Azlirel finally muttered. Hearing his voice made Cross even more obstinate.

"We've come this far, there is no turning back." Cross added, her voice and aura unwavering.

Aucelus smiled. In one swift second all his emotions was undoubtedly set aside. He carefully moved it somewhere inside his heart, making sure that it held him in control of his objectives. He knows that longing and lamentation would just impede his progress for this grandest scheme. His siblings offered their assistance with no hesitation as if they knew the basic requirements of the artifacts he just showed them. The delivery of his retaliation would be clear-cut. He and his siblings would continue forward no matter what. Even if everything might fail, his resolve would carry on until his afterlife.

* * *

Alfred flicked his Iphone to type a text. The message was rather cryptic. But a familiar name appeared in it. Judging from his abrupt reaction to the circumstances, Alfred had adapted an interest in knowing the Hipstein's history. Even overwhelmed by Michael's true character and past, he found himself entwined by the people that revolved around the Hipstein, and that included their oldest enemies. This new job Michael assigned him made him feel nostalgic. He however sensed that there might be something greater than trailing people and delivering intel for him.

" _Gades. Two persons, no ties to them._ " His Iphone flashed.

Michael assigned Alfred to what ironically the job that caused hurdle and distress to his relationship with the 14th successor, Rob Townshale Wolfsvairne Hipstein. He thought of himself as a lone wolf before but upon meeting Rob his world was altered completely. He never thought of finding a family in the strangest way imaginable. He became a father again and this time there's no job in the world that could compromise his duty as a dad. It was straightforward. He lost his left arm and right leg in a conflicting moment of his life, but that was negligible. Rob only mattered for him and he succeeded in securing him until the very end.

Now he provided the desired information for Anthony's advantage. When Alfred first met Anthony he was doubtful of his ability as a Sentinel to the 15th heir. But he was always mature of his judgment. He will not conclude until he finds a reasonable proof to support his uncertainty. He knows that Sentinels who grew with their _subject_ since childhood irrefutably becomes powerful overtime. They are more protective, their attachment unbreakable and steadfastness unyielding. His doubt vanishes in an instant. Alfred may be an outsider, a second time in history of Hipstein to happen, but he is dedicated more than ever. His relationship with Rob opened his heart to another chance of redemption. Now he would do everything for Michael to keep the current generation successful until they reach the finish line.

Upon successfully gathering a piece of information he ceased his reconnaissance. He was sure that some of the _guys_ sensed his presence, or probably they notice something was off. Alfred knew he was safe, but pushing further might bust his cover. He's used to taking risk but this is not the time to do so. _Not yet_. He needs to retreat for now. Besides, the scene he witnessed was consequential enough to deliver a forewarning.

Alfred disappeared among the mass of people bustling around the town of Enniscorthy. He reminded himself to buy the ingredients he needed to bake a yeast cake and cook a traditional Irish stew. Rob's family is having a dinner to commemorate his death. Bittersweet it may be for him, he regularly needed the contact to relive those evocative memories. Moreover he was the host of the celebration. He'll be preparing dinner at their home.

On the other hand Ian's birthday was one day ahead of Rob's death anniversary. He was always invited by Ian's family who was a close relative to Rob's mother. Though he miss most chances to be present in his birthday he never forgets to buy a gift and cook a traditional Irish cuisine for him. He was thinking of a game for his 3DS but he knows Anthony could have bought one already. It was tricky decision. He settled on PC games finally. He knows one that he hasn't had yet.

Now he needs to rendezvous with Michael. There has been progress in the enemies' side that threatens the peace Ian and Anthony enjoyed for a long time. He can't afford to let that come into fruition.


	4. Chapter 4 - Happy Birthday!

**I'm finally a registered voter! It felt so right that I accomplished that. Anyway, this chapter is pretty lengthy, but pay close attention okay? You'll see later.**

 **CHAPTER 4: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!**

"Are you sure it went this way?" a short blue-eyed boy asked suspiciously. He looked pale and skinny but no one can judge immediately from the thick layers of sweater he dons. His red and black plaid scarf dangles awkwardly with each hurried steps he takes. His dark brown khaki pants looked shabby from the smudges of snow.

"I'm sure okay? I can _sense_ it." A raven-haired boy in front of him retorted. He's almost of the same age but a little taller than the former. He wore a dark brown leather jacket on top of a red and black cashmere sweater and light brown tartan polo. His dark skinny jeans were also caked by shaves of ice. His dark brown eyes scanned the thick mantle of snow surrounding them. The only contrasting color around them was a bunch of dark, leafless, almost dead trees protruding. Their spindly branches, frosted with snow reached upward unappealingly.

"Anthony…I'm tired, let's go home already…" Ian exhaled annoyingly. He felt particularly uncomfortable especially since he forgot to wear at least an earmuff or a beanie to avoid winter messing his head. Time to time he would dampen his mittens over his ears to neutralize the chilling sensation. Anthony paid no attention, his mind evidently focused on the _thing_ they were looking for.

"Just a second, it's close." Anthony reasoned, the excitement in his voice trailing on.

"R-really? Well that's a relief I guess…" Ian replied exhaustingly, trotting slowly towards his best friend.

"You see that patch there? That's where it went." Anthony whispered while crouching, beckoning Ian to his direction. He pointed his finger towards a space between a towering boulder surrounded by weeds and scrawny trees.

"You know this is really silly right? Spying on a bunny?" Ian mumbled.

"Sush! We just have to wait. I can catch it." Anthony grumbled. His concentration was uninterrupted. Ian rolled his eyes and sighed.

Anthony continues to eye the area he spotted earlier, remaining immobile and observant for a good ten minutes. Ian stayed closed to him. He wanted to tell him how he acted so predatory that he almost mimicked a wolf preying on his next meal. He shook off the idea and placed his hands again over his ears. Few moments later they heard muffled sounds. Anthony didn't budge but found the sounds were strange and different. Ian soon picked the noise and tapped Anthony, asking him what it was.

"You heard that?" Ian inquired, sounding baffled. Anthony didn't answer, let alone facing him.

"Is that really a rabbit?" Ian continued asking, still no response from Anthony.

"Anthony!" Ian whispered through gritted teeth. "Would you stop staring at that stupid rabbit-hole and pay attention to what I'm asking you?"

"Calm down…I know okay?" Anthony replied coolly. It took a second before Ian realize that Anthony was not concentrating anymore on the rabbit-hole. His eyes darted below him apparently contemplating. Ian looked anxious now. He remembered seeing Anthony in one rare occasion positioned in a strange stance. His particular posture was more _observing_ rather than hunting. What's more alarming was that he's in this mode because there is _danger_. To Ian that same type of Anthony is in front of him.

"Anthony…what was it?" Ian murmured, grabbing Anthony gently by his right arm. Anthony didn't reply and still didn't face him. Ian's visage would look dead pale now. He was definitely scared.

Few seconds later Anthony discerned Ian's uneasiness and turned around to reassure him. He saw Ian's crystal blue eyes glinting with fear. He swore that at some point it turned almost grayish white.

"Hey…it's fine. Don't worry." Anthony encouraged Ian, placing his hand on his shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes.

"So…what was it?" Ian asked, his anxiety gradually dropping.

Anthony popped his head up and scrutinized his surroundings. He examined his environment with careful proficiency and returned his attention to Ian. Anthony raised his index finger to his lips gesturing Ian to remain quiet. When Anthony stood, Ian furrowed his brows and asked him quietly. "Where are you going?"

"Just stay here. It's around thirty meters away from us. It'll be a sec." Anthony said in hushed tone.

"I'm going with you…" Ian protested. Anthony rolled his eyes.

"You're not going with me. It might be dangerous. You'll be exposed." Anthony reasoned out whilst knowing Ian would persist, which he did.

"You're leaving me here alone? What if something came to me while you're over _there_ huh? Besides I want to see it too." Ian fired back.

Anthony knew it was pointless to argue. Ian made his point. It wasn't only the first time it happened though. Ian was always relentless in nagging. It annoyed Anthony a bit but he is reminded to _always agree_. It was the start of his skillful improvising methods when the odds always mix with Ian's normal but often times ridiculous needs and wants.

As Anthony and Ian sauntered through the pale sheets of snows, the stifled sounds became more audible. Luckily there was no storm to make the situation worst. When the noise started to become clearer Ian frowned.

"Is that a kid crying?" Ian surmised, his voice almost hissing.

Anthony gave Ian a short glimpse and absentmindedly took Ian's left hand with his right one. They continued walking. Three dark shapes slowly emanated in front of them as they strode across the large expanse of a snowy road. The trees didn't help improve the mood. Their menacing skeletal outline made Ian cringe in discomfort. However he felt relieved when Anthony, whilst alarmed, looked totally composed. For a child of seven, Ian was amazed by Anthony's air of vigilance. He never thought that a boy of the same demeanor like him would suddenly shift behavior when in safeguarding mode.

As the three men's silhouette slowly came into detail the muffled crying became more and more perceptible. Ian and Anthony noticed that there were two kids in front of them, a girl and a boy. The girl seemed to be holding a stick. Probably from one of those horrific trees, Anthony presumed. He became aware of the fact that the girl seemed to be defending the boy from the three men. To Ian's horror the boy was sitting on the ground shielding his two hands on his forehead. He was bleeding, howling and begging. His cries were more like helpless, trembling shrieks. The snow covered ground was stained with some blood droplets. The girl in front of him bravely stood her ground, whilst shaking and sobbing. Her eyes were a mix of rage and fear.

Ian and Anthony deduced that these three men were bullying the girl and the boy. But it was far worse than bullying. The boy was obviously hurt and he was bleeding. To their dismay these thugs were even laughing, seemingly enjoying the scene they've caused. It was more of a torture. Although frightened, Ian felt anger coursing through his veins. Anthony maintained his cool.

"A-Ant…we need to help them…" Ian whispered, his voice was shaky, obviously shocked by what he just saw. Anthony held his hand firmly hoping to suppress his fear.

Ian needed not to tell Anthony twice. He instinctively held a rock in his left hand, clutching it firmly, almost as if it's going to break. Without warning Anthony hurled the rock. It zoomed with perfect accuracy and impressive power. Anthony hit one of the men. The mugger instantly crashed on the ground, face on. The other two became alarmed that their comrade collapsed and lost consciousness. They searched their surroundings for the assailant. Anthony calmly strode forward, few meters away from them, waiting for them to realize his and Ian's presence. When the two finally detected his existence, they ranted in pure rage.

"Hey brat! You did this?" the brawny guy barked, he saw Anthony holding another piece of rock in his left hand. It only confirmed his notion. Anthony didn't answer, instead stared at him, pokerfaced. Needless to say the sturdy thug easily lost his temper.

"Y-you! I'm going to kill you! You motherfucking son of a bitch!" he bellowed, fuming. Ian swears that his temples were outlined with angry veins that it would almost pop. His eyes were bloodshot.

The guy was dressed in thick garb of jacket. Wearing dark jeans and brown trapper hat, his features was really intimidating. Ian surmised he's drunk, or worst, on drugs. The other one was much leaner, more thuggish and a lot appalling in general. His eyes flashed a thirsty urge to beat someone to pulp. To Ian's terror the former flicked a dagger, which looked strange. In split second he flung the dreaded blade, targeting Anthony. It launches straight towards its target—Anthony. To their amazement however, Anthony effortlessly caught the blade in mid-air, returning them an impassive gaze. Ian was clearly stunned too. Seeing Anthony catching a whooshing blade towards him in flawless feat was none of the list he was expecting from his best friend.

"W-what the fuck?" The beefy thug said, his jaw fell, eyes flaming in disbelief.

Anthony, after grabbing the blade simply threw it on the snowy ground and delivered a warning.

"Your buddy over there is currently fighting for his life. He may only seem unconscious but I hit him purposely at the back of his head to trigger _something_." Anthony tilted his head, as if taunting them. His words however were perceptibly intimidating. It carried no reservation for leniency. He assumes they got the message he wanted and would soon hurry dragging their fallen fellow or else things might get worse for them.

"I'll say this once. One foolish move and you'll regret being alive." Anthony warned them. His voice was chillingly cold and menacing. His eyes reflected an unemotional aura, as if none of their combine efforts would matter if they decided to go offensive.

"Y-you're getting cocky stupid brat…I'll mince you and smash you into pieces!" The brawny guy grumbled in displeasure. His eyes were flaring with anger. However, before he could even advance towards Anthony his gaunt fellow stopped him.

"L-let's flee." He stuttered.

"What?" the other hissed.

"Let's get out of here man. This…this not a place for us…." He trembled, fear looming in his voice and eyes.

"No fucking way!" his friend growled in disgust. However, he soon realized that his friend wasn't faking his trepidation. Then it hit him to his core. The boy in front of them wasn't any normal human being. They sensed something peculiar about him. How he kept his cool in such a situation and how he caught smoothly in mid-air the dagger he threw with utter force and precision. He even tossed it uninterestingly on the ground, spiting them, as if it didn't matter if he was weaponless. And how could a boy knock someone with just a rock? Sure it will hurt, but for a seven year old boy beating someone unconscious in an instant? And with a single hit? They realized now that they are probably in front of a professional assassin. They've had heard true stories around Dublin, but never really encountered one. But Anthony was not one. None of them can precisely guess. Anthony's unbending presence partially confirmed his suspicion.

"Don't even think it'll end here!" He yelled heatedly and proceeded to carry their fallen comrade.

Fleeing in fear, the skinny guy turned his head for the last time, recording in his memory every bit of second that Anthony's visage flashed before him, looking down on them. His eyes carried a longing revenge on it, but it soon faded, knowing it was way impossible to achieve such. With that they disappeared in the woods without a word except for the other guy's unrecognizable ramblings.

Anthony remained staring blankly in their direction while Ian darted towards the girl and boy.

"You two are fine now." Ian prattled, gesturing at the boy.

The girl was too traumatized that she forgot his brother. Although the boy stopped crying loudly he was still sobbing from pain and distress. Ian immediately pulled out a clean handkerchief to tend his wound. The boy refused initially but was calmed by Ian.

"It's okay…we just need to stop the bleeding. I will not hurt you." Ian supported him. The boy, although reluctant, allowed Ian to examine his head letting out short snuffling whimpers. The boy's head was grazed awfully, although not too deep, it still looked unpleasant.

Ian folded his handkerchief in a rectangular fashion and carefully placed it on the boy's forehead. The boy felt a brief sting but relaxed a bit when Ian held it more cautiously. Gradually he applied pressure to hamper the bleeding.

"Okay just hold this gently, it'll stop the bleeding for a moment, I just need…" Ian instructed the boy and stopped, searching for the girl and Anthony.

The girl was also crying. She sat beside her brother and watched the scene when Ian was tending him. Anthony was still standing, making sure that no impending threat was around them. When he was satisfied he strode toward them and knelt beside the girl, comforting her.

"It's fine now. Don't be scared. If those guys return I'll beat them to smithereens." Anthony smiled receptively, trying to lift the girl's spirit. The girl chuckled a bit although still sniffing gagged sobs. Her amber eyes were still teary and reddish from weeping. Anthony's heart shrank when he saw the girl's hands bruised with angry red and purple marks. _"Those bastards might have harassed her for a few moments…"_ Anthony deduced. He also guessed that she might have held that stick so tightly that it is the only means of surviving from those scumbags.

"Hey take this." Anthony offered the girl his mittens. The girl obliged and took them from Anthony. _"She's cold and wounded. Damn those numbskulls!"_

"Do you have water?" Ian asked anxiously. The girl shook her head. When Anthony tried to look around he gazed at Ian, to the girl and boy. It was too unwise to leave them here. It might be possible those guys would return. Although he can sense them from afar it was still too risky to leave them.

"I think this might work…Anthony you have an extra towel or handkerchief?" Ian marveled. Anthony nodded and gave him his clean, white hankie.

Ian looked around and found some clean shaves of ice. He scooped a good amount. He spread the handkerchief and placed the snowy lump in the middle and began folding it in a rectangular shape, wrapping the shredded ice inside. Anthony and the girl watched him intently. Ian moved to the boy.

"Hey, listen, Uhm…I'm going to damp this in place of that one. It might sting again but it's for your own good okay? Trust me." Ian guaranteed him. The boy nodded slowly and let Ian did the rest. Ian can't help notice that the boy acted awkwardly sometimes. He didn't even mind looking at Ian, as if he can't figure out his outline. Ian continued treating his wound. The boy's whimpering slowly subsided but he still looked cheerless. Anthony placed his hand at the girls back and beamed at her boyishly.

"T-Thanks…" the girl said gratifyingly, still sobbing.

"There…told you it's going to be fine right?" Ian beamed ardently. He shot a glance at the girl and Anthony, flashing the same boyish smile Anthony painted in his face recently. His blue eyes sparkled with energy that the horrors he just previously witnessed didn't even matter that much. He was relieved that these poor, innocent children are now safe and sound. Ian can tell that they were very young, at least two years younger than him and Anthony.

Soon Anthony interrogated them. Where were they living, how they got here, and how did those scumbags happen to mess around with them. The girl reckoned being with their family member not too far from here but got a bit lost when they strolled for a few minutes around. To their worst luck they stumble upon these crazy hooligans and the terror of their life begun. She recalled that the guy Anthony previously knocked threw a snowball to her twin brother. She thought it was harmless but the snowball was hard and very icy. The power of his throw was too strong which induced the wound to her sibling's forehead. She was very angry and fought the guys but they were strong, and there were three of them. Although outnumbered she tried fighting back. They toyed all along her. She tried her best not to leave his brother who was bawling loudly from bleeding. She felt helpless until Anthony and Ian came.

Anthony and Ian escorted them out of the place. Before they can grab a taxi cab a man and an elderly lady noticed them. They looked concerned especially when they noticed the boy was holding a bloodstained handkerchief, faintly sobbing. Too concerned, they asked them what happened. Anthony and Ian confided that a group of thugs mauled them. Ian explained how they found a way to escape, explaining how Anthony expertly made a decoy. They knew they were safe as soon as they hit the road as there were few people bustling around. The man and the elderly woman learned of Anthony's origin and didn't question his ability to be a _decoy_. They revealed that they formerly live outside Silent Harrow and were not surprised by the "Guards" there whose skills are kind of odd. They guessed Anthony might be one. They also knew that securities inside that place were mostly blood-related and trained as early as their childhood. They assured them they'll inform the police. They even openly offered to accompany them to the hospital and attest to a police station so as to serve as "witness". Anthony and Ian agreed, exhaling in relief.

As they arrive in the hospital they explained the situation and a couple of nurse gratifyingly assisted them. When they intuitively asked about the situation the old lady and the man did the rest of the details. Ian stared at Anthony nervously who in return smiled at him coolly telling him " _It's going to be fine_ ".

"Do you have any contact with your family?" Anthony asked the girl.

"I do have…" she answered.

"You should contact them immediately." Ian added. The girl nodded and trotted towards a nearby telephone booth. Anthony stayed on guard while Ian turned his attention to her twin brother being supported by two nurses.

"It's fine now. I told them where we are. Thank you very much for helping us." The girl announced merrily.

Ian noticed Anthony looking apprehensive.

"What is it Ant?"

"We should be heading back. It's been three hours since we got out. They'll be worried sick." Anthony explained. Ian saw his point but was still concerned about the siblings' situation. The man with the elder woman noticed this and assured them.

"You two should go back now. You have done too much already. We'll handle the rest here. We will not leave them until a family member arrives." The man reassured them. Anthony and Ian nodded.

The man and the old lady couldn't help but perceive how mature Ian and Anthony actually think. The way they manage to assist the other two siblings, the way they talked, the vigilance and care they put for them and each other. They were simply amazed.

"It'll be fine you angels. I guarantee you that." The old lady added.

Ian beamed genuinely and looked at Anthony who also wore a relieved smile. As they prepped to leave, Ian surveyed Anthony. He was regularly taking breaks and seemed to be checking his surroundings. Ian sighed and grinned.

"You really amaze me Ant." Ian flatly stated.

"Huh?" Anthony said innocently, clueless about Ian's compliment.

"You're still examining this place if any possible danger is present."

"Just making sure everything is clean I guess." Anthony scoffed. Ian chuckled and the two walked through the hospital, passing by busy doctors, nurses and visitors. Before they could finally go outside the girl caught to them, panting.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Ian asked curiously.

"I wanted to return these." The girl muttered, pulling out the pair of mittens she wore and raise it towards Anthony.

"No you can keep it. You need it more than I do." Anthony refused truthfully. The girl shook her head and insisted but Anthony was more stubborn.

"Think of it as a remembrance." Anthony said, spreading a warm grin across his face. Ian can't help but smile too.

"Thanks a lot. I'll never forget this…" she expressed thankfully. "This will be strange but…I hope we might cross paths again." The girl murmured softly.

Ian and Anthony chuckled and both said in unison "We look forward to it too!" They both shot brief glances at each other and returned their gaze to the girl. They all laughed. Soon the girl bid farewell to them.

As they got out of the building Anthony realized that snow was falling outside. The cottony balls of frosty ice fibrous orbs and flakes slowly descended, almost hovering. He relished the stillness of it.

"Are you not cold?" Ian said while rubbing his own hands and placing them again around his ears. He was gesturing to Anthony's bare hands. When Ian was about to offer his, Anthony simply refused, shaking his head.

"I dunno how you are able to endure that." Ian jealously stated, quite curious to the least that Anthony can stay warm and never bothered by the cold weather.

As they walked to their left past the hospital and few alleys, the snow danced and spiraled downward the suburbs of Sandyford.

As Anthony recalled the events, he was amazed how Ian controlled the situation. Even though Ian was evidently shocked, he managed his composure and laid his confidence to him. Anthony recollected also how he administered his presence of mind. He stood his ground, just like the girl. They were fortunate enough that the thugs were just normal humans except for their obvious twisted nature.

"I thought you might forget but you didn't…." Ian muttered, huffing. The coldness seemed to penetrate through him.

"About what?" Anthony asked, grabbing him by the shoulder, putting closure between them.

Ian stared at him indignantly. Anthony grinned. It amuses him to annoy Ian, all flustered and dominated. Of course he does remember.

"Of course I didn't…" Anthony chuckled, smiling knowingly to Ian, who only shook his head and rolling his eyes.

"Did you like it?"

Ian nodded, beaming excitedly.

"Happy Birthday!" Anthony greeted tenderly.

"Thanks." Ian replied appreciatively.

As both of them meandered through the icy streets Anthony soon noticed that his surroundings were getting brighter and brighter. The snow was getting tense and denser. Before he realized it he was wide awake.

* * *

Anthony woke up with discomfort in his forehead. He had fallen asleep. He rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate the paralyzed region of his head. The hampered blood flow caused electric like sensation in his forehead. It felt more like countless needles poking the surface of his head. He blamed it on his sleeping position. He can't believe that it was all a dream. But it wasn't a fabricated dream. It was a memory of the past.

It was so clear, detailed and exact that he felt he travelled back through time. Why he dreamt about it was the question. He was well aware that unexpected dreams sometimes can mean something of extreme importance. It represented a manifestation of one's subconscious. Anthony tried to think it was a forewarning or whatever clue for an impending travesty but all he can remember was the happy moments. Yes there was the horrifying encounter about those brutish thugs but he decided a happy ending to it.

It was Ian's birthday too. He felt a surge of nostalgia coursing through him. Maybe the moment he greeted him was the time to wake up and make the _decision_. Anthony shook his head and went to focus on what was glaring in front of him.

His laptop illuminated the dimness of his room. During his sudden wake he unintentionally budged the mouse to cancel the plain dark screensaver. It blindingly flashed the familiar website he was browsing. Gamestop. Sighing he went peering through it.

It was a pretty difficult choice for Anthony. Not long ago he was annoyed by the fact that Alfred confided to him he was buying a 3DS game for Ian's birthday.

"No man, that's difficult. You see he already had tons of it, I'll give you a list of what he already has for 3DS but I can't assure that whatever you pick he'll totally like." Anthony explained, sounding weary.

"What genre is his favorite?" Alfred countered. "I can carefully select current releases today. I can even check their ratings at Metacritic and GameRankings."

"I already have one, but you know what? You can probably find a PC game for him. He doesn't have that much. For PC's he prefers FPS…anything that budges your mind?" Anthony suggested scratching his chin. Alfred sighed and nodded.

"I had this game already and he's been waiting for it, although I'm surprised he didn't remember that it was already out." Anthony stated with relief and confusion. He was certain that Ian wanted so badly the game he bought for him today. He's puzzled though how Ian forgot that it was already released and didn't bother him too much to buy it. Maybe he knows he will buy it for his birthday? Anthony wasn't so sure for Ian didn't mention anything.

"Oh, don't mind too much of the food. You keep on bringing us Irish cuisines but he's still love Pizzas, Mexican and American stuffs."

Alfred chuckled. This was totally true. Ian and Anthony loved pizzas, American and Mexican foods in general. It was mostly predictable that when somebody had to join their lunchtime it wasn't a difficult guess what they would be craving for such takeouts.

The two had also been frequently attending Vidcons, Comicons, Expos and conventions, mostly held around America, much to Anthony's dismay, as Ian knows. There were quite few launched in other countries too, but America strikes them the most. Their fascination for these events was mostly a reflection of their childhood hobbies.

Anthony also recalled to him that he and Ian would invite their friends for a sleepover and play Smash Brothers all night long. Their diet consisted most of...you guess, pizzas. There tacos, burritos and nachos too. Anthony sniggered when he remembers that precise night where he played a prank over Ian. Too tired, Ian gave up around five in the morning telling the rest that he still has some catching up to do tomorrow. Anthony grabs the opportunity to "exact revenge". He and his friends went to Ian's room to find him in deep slumber. He even heard him mumbling something like "No, don't take my guns!" Trying their best to contain their laughter they each took turns to scribble doodles across Ian's face, giggling in enjoyment. The next day Ian went through his entire morning routine not knowing what Anthony and his friends did to his face. It was until he absentmindedly stare on a glass pane of their living room cabinet that he noticed the weird markings in his face.

Anthony still relived those memories and can't help laughing. He admitted however that Ian's pranks were much, much worst that his. In addition to his dismay he can't even _sense_ Ian. He can only rely on instincts. Anthony was practically defenseless when Ian's going to attack him. Alfred can only laugh and shake his head.

"I heard that your _subject_ was a total prankster too." Anthony accounted exuberantly.

"Yes he is." Alfred shook his head again and let out a mirthful snicker.

"I'm no exception from his shenanigans. At first I was as dumb as a dim-witted prick for not getting his drifts. I would just usually not show any form of annoyance or entertainment, until I slowly get a grip of his rhythm. I know for a fact that when he gives me a particular kind of chocolate that I know he did something wrong. There is always a looming prank. The problem is, for the entirety of my life with him I still can't anticipate what his pranks were, each time he gives me those chocolates." Alfred recollected happily.

"What? He does that? What a mischievous kid." Anthony cackled. Alfred could only nod and titter in agreement.

"I should be going now…" Alfred motioned on his watch.

"Thank you for inviting me personally." He concluded. He picked his jacket and allowed Anthony to usher him out of their house.

The day came and Ian was delighted to see the center of his birthday attraction: a towering layer of pink-frosted sprinkled donuts. Anthony made it specifically in place of a cake. To Ian's surprise the candle was even fashioned in pink-frosted sprinkle donut with an evil, devilish eye on it, creepily smiling but looked really cute.

"I-I thought this wasn't even possible…" Ian asked wonderingly.

"Well it was." Anthony confirmed.

Ian did ask Anthony to make the candle look like one, but Anthony shushed him for how it sounds ridiculous. Unbeknownst to Ian, Anthony tried hard to find the expert cook or baker to mold one. Silly as it sounds, one did know how to. Now he sees Ian's face beaming with genuine happiness. He looks totally silly and childish.

"Is Alfred coming?" Ian inquired keenly, to which Anthony's face turned sour.

"He can't. There was an emergency."

"What?" Ian frowned, his face plastered with disappointment.

"What was it?" Ian pressed.

"He won't tell or maybe he _can't_ tell…"

"Oh, I see…it's that major _investigation_ thing again." Ian correctly guessed.

"Well he did send his gifts." Anthony motioned his head on the presents lying beside their dining table.

"More than one?" Ian asked quizzically.

"The first one was a deal he consulted with me while the other one was an apology…well…for…you know."

Ian could only sigh. "He's really a good guy. I was really looking forward for a fun conversation with him.I didn't know a lot about my uncle."

Anthony chuckled.

"Apparently Michael is getting him fed up with some shit, undoubtedly."

Ian shrugs and when he was about to sneak his hand to one of the gifts Anthony quickly swatted it like a fly.

"How many times do I have to tell you? After dinner?"

"Oh how many times do I have to tell you?" Ian mimicked Anthony, an air of faked domineering attitude traced across his face. Anthony glared at him. Ian noticed this and jokingly behaved like a child. He took another shot at Anthony and made a derp smile.

"Your wish?" Anthony gestured on the cake. The donut candle was about to lose its face.

"Uhmmm…sprinkled pink frosted donuts, pizzas, burritos, tacos, honey boo boo, happy cow…" Ian prattled in a very childish manner while closing his eyes. After a few seconds he opened only his right eye and catch a glimpse of Anthony's narrowed eyes and riled expression. He closed his right eye again and grinned widely. Afterwards he blew the candle.

"You're serious are you?" Anthony asked exasperatedly. Ian only nodded, displaying a toothless smirk. Anthony in return shook his head to which Ian burst to uncontrolled laughter.

"Half of those things you wished were food while the other half was pure non-sense…" Anthony mumbled. He purposely made his eyes looked saggy.

"You know for a fact I didn't really wish for those." Ian explained blankly.

"What did you truly wish for then?" Anthony pushed.

Ian only gestured something. He pointed repeatedly in his heart and said. "Some wishes are better left unsaid…or it's a seeecreet." Ian murmured.

Anthony scoffed, sneering.

The two started digging through their hefty dinner menu.

"Oh-my-gosh, we just had so many food that I dunno were to start…hmmm." Ian said in deep voice, convinced that only a fifth of his birthday dinner would be consumed.

"Hey, I remember, last Friday, I had this dream…." Anthony trailed.

"Yeah, what about it?" Ian muttered, attacking a pizza and munching a burrito at the same time, he eyed the sprinkled pink-frosted donut but realized there was no room in his mouth. He also realized that a donut would be disgusting of a mix for pizza and burrito inside his mouth. He gaped at Anthony waiting for him to continue.

"You remember when we were around seven I guess….we found these siblings in a secluded area around Sandyford?" Anthony started, his left hand held a double-decked taco. Ian didn't say anything, trying to recall about his dream.

"This kid was bleeding and his sister was in front of him defending him from these three, foolish scumbags…you remember that?" Anthony recounted further.

"Oh yeah! How could I forget that?" Ian finally remembered.

"But that was…a long time ago wasn't it? And it was even during my birthday right?"

"Like I've said we were still seven during that time. To be honest it kind of freaked me out that I had that dream."

"That was during my birthday and we were out in the woods to hunt for this bunny. Hmm, that was certainly strange considering my 28th birthday was close to deadline."

"Yeah, you see? That was really strange…although I can always recall good memories from that. I beat those guys and saved them. You were really good on treating that wounded boy. I was really impressed by how you managed to keep your cool. I thought you're gonna run." Anthony narrated further, sneering at his last remark.

"You're such a cocky bastard aren't you huh? If I could I would pull that man's ass, the one you just knocked, and doodle the look of his other buddies' face beaten the shit out of them." Ian retorted, and scribbled imaginatively in the air, painting the most ridiculous derp look in his face.

Anthony burst into laughter. He let out an uncontrolled jovial cackle.

"I'm going to make sure you have the best tattoo of your life mister! Nyehehe!" Ian continued scrawling in midair, shifting his visage in a more comical sight.

"Yeah you're right that was a happy memory." Ian described it fondly. Anthony was still recovering from his hysteria and rubbed his eyes, there were tears beading due to his unrestrained laughter.

"Would you get over that already?" Ian jeered, shaking his head, but later smiled at the sight of Anthony just giggling uncontrollably.

"But you know what? We did forget something during that time." Ian said.

"What was that?" Anthony asked furrowing his brows, looking clueless.

"We didn't ask their names." Ian replied.

"Yeah that was weird." Anthony did wonder, he shrugged instead, tired of thinking too much.

To Ian it was probably the best birthday he had to date. Even though there were only two of them together, their laughter echoed the warmest memory they had together.


	5. Chapter 5 - More Than Enough

**I'm so sorry for the long wait. God! My job is almost killing me! Even with the APEC summit we were still required to extend overtimes! Finally I was able to write a connecting chapter. But this is just one of those. I already have the later chapters written. Some were plain revelations while some are climatic. The ending is still on the progress (LOL, there's already an ending, hah!). But that will still yet to be decided, I mean there are a lot of things that might affect the story's entirety so I would not hundred percent settle on that. Hope you'll like again this fluffy chapter (well not really, just a teaser bit, hehe).**

 **CHAPTER 5: MORE THAN ENOUGH**

Anthony woke up surprised by the absence of headache. He felt a little better. The stress he tolerated yesterday apparently subsided. But he still felt a bit annoyed. Judging from the dim and gloomy shade of his room, he surmised that the sun hasn't fully risen yet. He felt the sheets of his bed comfortably warm.

He blinked twice and noticed the man sleeping beside him. Clutching a pillow, dressed in knitted sweater, and half-buried inside the sheets they both share, Ian slumbered sideways facing Anthony.

Anthony's stomach twisted. He felt his heart jumped briefly. It's not that they didn't sleep together in the past. Whilst they do it occasionally, they have no problem about it. Until now, when he laid his eyes on Ian without the other knowing, it sends ridiculous stomach churns and heart pounding. He was still beyond confused as to what's wrong with him. One thing's for sure though, he needs to figure it out soon. This annoying feeling has been interfering with his thought process quite frequently these past days. It's wasn't exactly _annoying_ but not knowing it precisely is what makes Anthony bothered. Or was he just really dumb?

Maybe because he was always trained to abide by his responsibility that he can't fully understand the merit of these things. Maybe, just maybe if he and Ian had been in the outside world more often that he would learn much greater things what normal people knows and enjoys. Or maybe if they were born in a different world, together, circumstances might shape their lives in huge difference. Anthony always yearned for an alternate world where he and Ian could exist without worries and reservation. Something, sadly, he knew deep down would never happen.

There was priming to do. There were bunch of stuff he had to buy for Ian and he of course would tag along. No ifs and buts. Anthony simply can't say no, yet again the solution: improvisation. Long ago it wasn't a problem but the situation right now is different. Danger was always in the air, he can't technically pinpoint it but he can smell it. He remembers Michael again. A brief surge of irascibility resurfaced inside him.

Anthony decided to get off the bed, slowly and quietly. But before he can do so, he can't help but notice Ian curled in such cute position. He grappled the huge hotdog pillow like a baby. He snores, but they were quiet, short wheezes of breath. Anthony didn't bother. He turned sideways to face Ian and literally stayed there for fifteen minutes just staring at him. Later he thought of his action a bit creepy. Inside his head were dreamy thoughts. Back before, he had done this occasionally, but every time his mind was swimming with thoughts of how to effectively protect him. That was only it…until now. He felt his face becoming warmer but was still clueless that he might have looked like a ripe tomato if he's in front of a mirror. Anthony closed his eyes and began straying away from those thoughts. He was scared to know what something else lays beyond those undiscovered thoughts…or truths.

Anthony finally got up, slithering slowly out of bed. He was careful not to awake Ian. Out of nowhere a memory flashed in his head. There was an instance that Anthony was awoken by Ian in the middle of the night. Less to Anthony's dismay, Ian told him that he was relentlessly grinding his teeth. It was so noisy that he found it disturbing. He found out that he had a condition called _Bruxism_. He had to wear a mouthpiece every night just to avoid chipping his teeth piece by piece. Ian thought it weird and funny but later exhibited deep concern because Anthony wasn't paying attention to such small problem that might potentially turn tricky later. Why did he remember that? Such random thought, he shrugged it off. Probably Anthony was so used to putting out his mouthpiece every morning that it felt awkward now that he doesn't. He chuckled silently.

Within thirty minutes Ian would be awake too. Even though its weekend, both Anthony and Ian's weekday body clock still applies, only that during weekends, Ian doesn't wake up early to take a run alongside Anthony.

Anthony quickly changed to a pair of black jogging pants and a red and gray dry shirt. He donned his running shoes and headed outside. He felt the chill of morning air coursing through his body. It gave him brief satisfaction. He popped and cracked a few of his bones and did some stretching. In an instant he vanished in thin air.

Anthony's morning routine was nothing likely a normal human being would do. It involves _browsing_ his surroundings, but through years of boredom he think of it as something as shaking rust off of his _inhuman_ body.

Anthony effortlessly hopped between trees, boulders, cliffs, canopies, hurdles and anything beyond human reach as if teleporting. He did this in flashing speed of successions. He also did this in a very implausible fashion, at least for a normal human comprehension. It was a signature move that originated from Michael. It typically involves lightning speed dashes in powerfully controlled fashion. Garde Ambecrondre, the first Sentinel, named it _Hallucinate_. The skill was incredibly valuable but not really required for a Sentinel or Guardian to master. Hallucinate is capable of outmaneuvering enemies with impressive speed movements that advances any offensive and defensive skills to a whole new level. However, what Hallucinate sets apart from any other god-speed-like movements is its untraceable trait. It adds a second layer of " _cover"_. Hallucinate's notorious capability is attributed to the highest level of incorporating Conceal, a core passive skill any Sentinel has to master.

Conceal has three sub categories: Suppress, Shroud and Vanish. Suppress regulates the level of energy flowing in ones spiritual structure to the point that one can restrain their powers to absolute zero. However, Suppress doesn't extend to the force that maintains a person "alive". Shroud on the other hand adds a _coat_ that hinders enemies from detecting ones "true power". This differs from Suppress in the sense that one can use his powers without being detected. It had to be the sneakiest passive skill Michael passed down generations from generations. Shroud is harder to achieve because of its tricky and steeper learning curve. It has an exponential "concentration" requirement which when calculated uses the combination of power used plus excellent mind conditioning and consideration of other fluctuating significant variables. Lastly is Vanish which simply " _kills_ " a user's presence. This is the toughest to achieve because it goes to the point that even the tiniest trace of life force will not react to the presence of a Sentinel under this mode. In simple terms, it makes a person non-existent. To put it in an example, one can move around without the wind or dust reacting.

Learning conceal deals a huge strain in ones' body. However the trick was not entirely exhaustive but tactical. Anthony learned it the hard way. He recalls a past mission that almost cost his life for failing to estimate properly an enemy. The opponent was majestically out of anyone's league. Anthony discerned wrongfully of the monster's obvious monstrous size and construed it as lacking wit and combat supremacy. But knowing the opposite was as horrifying as he could imagine. The monster was simply the epitome of what Michael wanted him to learn. The beast knows how to utilize the three passive core skills all Sentinels do. Making things more substantially harder is that it possesses an intelligence composed of countless sentient forms. Any Sentinel undergoing the mission was simply overwhelmed by the creature's grandiose architecture. But there was still a trick to defeat such ethereal monstrosity. The cryptic advice given by Michael opened a fiddly hope and Anthony was eternally thankful for that.

Reminiscing those days still brings chills down his spine. It was one of those missions that appeared easy, but was entirely the other way around. He can't imagine how he managed to survive such ordeal. Michael truly knows how to push the boundaries of his trainees. He did it callously but productively. It all falls to his trust and confidence. Something that was unwavering and just overflowing with respect and astuteness.

When he felt satisfied by the level of his performance Anthony decided to land on the ground and jogged like a normal human. At this level he has to regulate the level of his energy to the point that he can still feel challenged by a simple running while keeping his Detect on. It has been a standard habit since he has to blend with humans.

Few people passed by him, doing the same thing. Few minutes and sweat trickled down his face he decided finally to change his route and head home. He did this plainly by running. Instead of filling his head with worries he was thinking of something different for breakfast. He finds it appetizing to have a homemade Irish breakfast. Ian liked it and so he does. After which he will hear a brief run through of his grocery lists.

Upon arriving, Anthony decided to do one last thing. He closed his eyes as he slowly unlocks the flow of his energy. Anthony disappeared in thin air reappearing to what seems to be a windy, open field of sky. The vast, seemingly limitless plane of bluish space may appear totally alien and atypical for someone, but it was Anthony's world. He loved the comfort of sharp gales of winds breezing through all over his body. Besides, his affinity after all was the wind. It was always a pleasant break when his nerves are knotted. Shortly when he felt his sweat seems to desiccate he descended in a blink of an eye. Once he reopened his senses, the familiar door of home greeted him. Anthony went inside as his stomach began craving for breakfast.

"Hungry?" Anthony asked as he saw Ian bustling around the kitchen. Ian fetched the brewer for Anthony's coffee while preparing the heater for his tea.

"Make it full right? I'm quite empty." Ian replied. "You ran again without me?"

"We both know that you forfeit weekend right?" Anthony countered.

"Uhm, I just thought I would like to change that habit but I should have advised you last night to wake me up. My mistake."

Anthony scoffed, grabbing bacon, sausages, eggs, gilled mushrooms and tomatoes inside the fridge, while Ian prepared soda bread for light toasting. He rummaged the fridge for the white and black puddings after Anthony got his stuff.

"You want that fried or grilled?" Anthony asked enthusiastically.

"Grilled of course. Less oil."

"Say, you think those mongers decided a random attack on Harrow's west border or someone is pulling strings behind them?" Ian mumbled, pulling a bag of Twinings English breakfast tea.

Without facing him Anthony replied with caution. He was mildly surprised by Ian's awareness of these affairs. Although the raging group he was referring to was nothing but speck of flies either trying to attract attention or just miserably bored misfits. Even though Anthony learned that these irksome band of troglodytes had some link to certain serious skirmish Michael previously mentioned. He was thankful that this level of information was discreet enough to slip out most of Hipstein family members's attention, including Ian. Anthony's precaution to deal with such ostensibly impotent topic stems from the fact that it has some connection to his direct problem. Proven or not he still has to deal with such topic carefully. This quandary reminded well of as the half cause of his erratic behaviors which Ian was particularly concerned recently.

A subordinate of Michael informed him that there might be a possibility that those men acted stupidly in order to escape a heftier penalty due to public nuisance. They suspect also that the way they acted might simply be a cover because judging from their deeds they did trifle upon private lands. It was also perfectly timed that the security was a bit loose on Harrow's western border. The informant further shared that someone might be studying an opening of Hisptein territory although they are absolutely clueless as to their specific motives. True or not, Anthony only thought that it is a potential plot for harming important figures of Hipstein and that might include Ian on the list. Few days of spying and they apparently hadn't squeezed any suspicious detail from those crank scumbags.

"Local police declared it unintentional trespassing, although I can't believe how penetrating a hundred meter wall would call that unintended." Anthony replied, coating his words with mock and amusement.

"So they just let them go? That was stupid!" Ian said indignantly.

"Well few lesser penalties: getting band in this place permanently, public service, four-digit denominated fines, paper works, those likes…" Anthony stated coolly.

Ian simply scoffed and decided to change the subject, which was good for Anthony. He pulled out a block of olive butter and began stuffing slices of soda bread inside the toaster. Anthony on the other hand began slicing the tomatoes in half and prepping the rest of the meat products. He pulled a pan and preheated it on top of their stove and arranged the portable griller.

"What are you planning on those?" Anthony queried, opening a bottle of oil.

"Can you poach the eggs instead?" Ian requested, flicking his 3DS open and Anthony heard the familiar overworld background music of Fire Emblem Awakening.

"Sure…" Anthony agreed, dropping his gaze and pulling out a huge drawer containing a ceramic pot.

"You didn't answer my question." Anthony pressed.

"Oh…it's a top secret." Ian accounted nonchalantly. He knew that Anthony would draw an unimpressed face, which he did. Ian witnessed this as he shot a glance towards Anthony who also turned his head briefly watching gallingly his friend after pulling the ceramic pot out of the drawer.

"These triple S freelance projects you make is really off the chart aren't they?" Anthony sarcastically lauded him, rummaging the other side of the cupboard for vinegar.

"Hmm…yeah staying anonymous has been the best for surprises right?" Ian smiled childishly while maneuvering his 3DS.

Anthony filled the pot with water and placed it on stove top to boil. He pulled two huge plates and placed it in the counter beside Ian. He grabbed the opportunity to snatch a glimpse of Ian's progress with Fire Emblem Awakening.

"You're still leveling up your troops?" Anthony nosed.

"Not only leveling, I'm trying to cover all support conversations for all characters. It'll be convenient when I need a set of troops that need not implement pairings. I mean I could place a character with anyone while still achieving best support bonuses, you know…you got my drift?" Ian explained thoroughly.

"Oh you're working on Frederick and Libra eh?" Anthony commented, turning away his attention and yanked some mushrooms, tossing them in the frying pan.

Anthony was recently aware of Ian's addiction with the game. He was too, although it hasn't occupied him that much. He knows well that dwelling on these earthly things might compromise his obligation. He loves video games a lot but not to the extent that it might impose problems to Ian's safety.

"Frederick is a real drag! I'm glad they released a particular DLC to make leveling easier." Ian exclaimed mashing the A button, letting Frederick, a character in the game, finish his B conversation with Lissa, another character in the game.

"Hmm…well in terms of support conversations you're real pain is in the Avatar right?" Anthony reminded him.

"Yeah, but I'm amused by the Avatar so I have no problem with her. Oh did you get the baked beans?" Ian turned his head, creasing his brows upon noticing that the one part of their breakfast is missing.

"It's in your fridge you douche! I don't even know why you forgot that!" Anthony chastised him.

"Alright I'll get it! Stop yelling at me mom! Jayzus!" Ian jumped off his seat and proceeded to his room to procure the baked beans. Anthony smirked, flipping the mushrooms while pulling eight strips of bacon. He sprinkled a pinch of salt and pepper on top of the sliced tomatoes. Before flipping it over the portable griller he grinded with his hands some fresh thyme leaves on top of it. Once he placed the sausages, bacon strips and puddings in the grill Ian came sprinting back with the canister of baked beans.

"Be careful with those."

"Ohmigosh! That smell's really good; I'm literally salivating right now." Ian poked his head.

Anthony pulled the toasted soda bread and began spreading the now softened olive butter.

"Oh I forgot about that! Lemme do that." Ian remembered.

"Yeah…because you were too busy playing that Fire Freaking Emblem game." Anthony scolded him, handing him the butter knife and toasted soda bread.

Ian rolled his eyes and after buttering the toasts, he obtained two medium-sized bowls from the cupboard. He opened the canister of beans and placed it inside the microwave oven. Anthony began scooping the mushrooms and picked the tomatoes with a tong. He turned the bacon strips, reversed the puddings and rolled the sausages. Ian turned his attention to the heater. He poured a cup of hot water from it for his tea. He was kind enough to prepare Anthony a mug of coffee from the brewer. Anthony doesn't bother if someone else makes him a coffee as long as it's Ian. He knows well after all the right amount of sugar and creamer he preferred.

"Here." Ian handed him the mug.

"Thanks." Anthony acknowledged. When his lips touched the brim his heart sank as the familiar exact aroma of the coffee filled his senses. He closed his eyes momentarily and savored the freshly brewed concoction. Anthony smiled blithely. Ian knows well the quality of his palate. Simple it may sound for just a cup of coffee it always felt nostalgic and comforting. His favorite part of the day was always morning. When he turned his head to catch sight of Ian, he only saw him playing his 3DS again. He shifted his gaze quickly and began pulling out the bacons and sausages. He proceeded getting the baked beans and settled them in the bowls.

"Okay! Food is ready." Anthony declared elatedly.

"Hah, just in time!" Ian exclaimed.

"Did you just finish a conversation?"

"Nope…got some legendary item here. There! Finally we can eat. Oh jeez, I'm so famished."

Around five minutes passed and none of them broke a word. The food was simply great. What made it more delectable was that the baked beans hit the spot.

"You know what? Probably the reason why I placed the beans in my fridge was that because it was just so good. Alfred knows well how to pinch our taste buds huh?" Ian teased.

"Why you're a selfish prick aren't you eh?" Anthony eyed him impishly.

"So after we get my entire stash list can we visit him?" Ian suggested to which Anthony simply shook his head.

"Why?" Ian demanded, furrowing his brows with his right hand holding a buttery toast, raised, and hiding his nose in the process.

"The guy's out again." Anthony blankly stated.

"Those assignments again? Good grief Michael is killing him!" Ian annoyingly said.

"You know? Probably the only two living figures I know well that I have never seen, like EVER is Michael and Alfred. I know well the issues regarding Michael but gods! Even seeing my predecessor's Sentinel is next to impossible! That guy is like my uncle too right?" Ian continued mumbling, oblivious to the fact that Anthony was almost halfway finishing his meal.

Anthony continued shaking his head while chewing. Ian's eyes' drooped and continued digging through his breakfast.

"It's just…" Anthony stalled, sipping a coffee to clear his mouth.

"It's totally out of our control. The guy took heed of Michael's request. It was his choice. End of story. He's Michael's undying retainer now." Anthony firmly defined the reason behind Alfred's, the Sentinel of Ian's uncle—14th successor, unbending loyalty to Michael.

Few minutes later Anthony stood and took his plate to the dishwashing counter.

"This is really sad you know? It's always ironic that, that just one mysterious family member I'm so eager to meet is right behind my doorstep but suddenly vanishes." Ian stopped eating, peering at Anthony who leaned behind the dish counter with the mug of coffee in his hand. He stared back at Ian, face unreadable.

"Two decades…" Ian gestured his left index and middle finger. "Two decades and I haven't even met him once." He continued finishing his meal while shaking his head.

"This is always a prison isn't it? I have nothing but…" Ian managed to hold himself. He knew that pushing further was totally unfair, at least to Anthony. He pondered for a second that long ago his thinking gradually changed. Probably Anthony was beginning to question the merit of his duty for him that he was also beginning to question as well the value of his existence. The life of a successor was technically and overall…sad.

"S-sorry…didn't intend to go there…" Ian stuttered scooping repeatedly his baked beans.

"You still have me. You will always have me right?" Anthony said inanely.

Although Ian can tell the vacuous touch of Anthony's tone he can sense the pang of hurt it carries. Maybe he was just sick of being secluded that he yearned for other people's attention. He reached out but always failed. But it was never a debate that Anthony's presence was not enough. He was always more than enough. Anthony will always be the only person, friend and family Ian could ask for his _contracted_ life.

Although Anthony can only illuminate the right side of Ian's visage he can see the faint regret traced across it. He sighed quietly and finished his coffee, treading behind Ian and placing a hand in his right shoulders.

"Dude it's fine. Don't think of it too much okay? Come on, let's prep ourselves and get your list done already. You don't want your triple S freelance project short of effort and resources right? Time is ticking." Anthony said calmly, patting playfully the top of Ian's bowl haircut and sauntered across the living room to turn the television on.

Ian remained silent, not knowing if he's still chewing the same bite of toast earlier or the last chunk of black pudding and baked beans. Upon laying his eyes on his raven-haired friend he cleared his thoughts and sipped a cup of tea to regulate his demeanor. It was the beginning of a weekend. He doesn't want to spoil it with gloomy thoughts.

"You still haven't had all the DLCs right?" Anthony spoke unflappably.

When Ian didn't answer he continued suggesting.

"Why not a pair of 50$ ecard for each of us?"

"Yeah, I need to get the Lost Bloodlines 2 and 3." Ian admitted, unclogging his emotions from anxiety.

"I would like to try the Binding of Isaac. It was sick but looks fun."

Ian smiled and finished his breakfast. In front of the television, Anthony's face was a cross of happiness and melancholy, something Ian would never caught site of.


	6. Chapter 6 - Impassive But Valiant

**It's 2016. Oh gosh, sorry for the very late upload. This chapter is kind of similar with Chapter 3. This shall be the last of those stray story telling. Well to be honest not really stray, because it has a lot of implication with the main core of the story. I'm so hyped by Sam Fisher's character that I can't do justice by just depicting him here. Anyway that's another story, so let's see what this guy's fate going to be. Everything for Ian and Anthony, I do say so myself.**

 **CHAPTER 6: IMPASSIVE BUT VALIANT**

Despite knowing very little of the situation, Alfred resolved into pushing ahead. He was traversing a juncture between respite and improbability. The feeling however wasn't technically alien to him. He's been there. His prosthetic right arm and left leg remained a solid reminder of the grim past.

"Just be careful…" Anthony reminded him, sounding more of a brother or son rather than a comrade.

"Your time was already over. I understand that you made your choice to continue serving _him_ but I hate this feeling brewing inside me…" Anthony honestly confessed.

"Don't feel guilty Anthony. Blame should only be naught at your disposition. My choice is always mine. Keep Ian always close to you."

Those final words recurred inside Anthony's head. It echoed an undying syndrome that cried remorse and tribute. He can't help but masked his distressed mien every time Ian mentioned him. He pretended and uttered the usual excuses of the man's incapacity to appear before them. For Anthony, it felt like an epilogue for a majestic altercation. Something he knew but dreaded to come.

"It's not yet the end, right?" Anthony asked anxiously.

Alfred didn't respond. He vanishes with the wind, but Anthony, whose affinity was even with the wind, can't even feel him.

* * *

The Gades has been good business partner with Hipstein for many years. Recently, the two giants established an initiative that offers the most handpicked outsourcing services in the industry. Since that year has been an uprising of potential entrepreneurs, their partnership has been largely cooperative for capitalists whose business niche is not majorly dominated by large entities. Due to this, balanced competition bloomed across business multitudes. The company was awarded for their seamless dedication in providing top tier business services.

Due to this, the peace forged long ago was even more secured. However either side had contested in closed doors that there is still looming distrust between them. Historically, bad blood was always the foundation of acrimony. Cynicism at some point breeds hates, but the history between Gades and Hipstein was abysmal and byzantine.

However, most high profile figures involved between the families' partnership were "new generations". Their parentage has been mixed and are either not aware of each family's ancient animosity. Some has decided to "move on" and thought of the future as more significant. Hipstein believes on the other hand that there are still pure-blood Gades or loyalists to the family that are still ceaselessly pursuing justice or rather…retribution. But their geneses were bleak and befuddling.

The existing predicament now for scouting agents such as Alfred is the difficulty of harvesting information if an imminent plot is indeed on the move. There were only traces of "fake leads" which are sometimes disposed immediately or are tentatively set aside. Ragnell Ames Ikelberg, the highest in-charge of Hipstein's "Intel Division" labeled it as deviously unpredictable, relentlessly annoying and cunningly misleading. Alfred hates to agree but Ragnell's accounts were pretty accurate and diminutively shy of any errors.

Since these alleged Gades nemeses are working surreptitiously, probing through the business and political affairs had little impact on information gathering. Ragnell had already scoured possible leads across the said areas and nothing shed light. As Ragnell suspected, none of these people are renowned figures. Moreover, even checking their private genealogies proved futile. They were factually clueless. Peril was at doorstep but existed in a different plane.

Alfred's investigation however brought a tiny but strange lead. From the speck of clues given by Michael he stumbled upon an ancient ancestor of Gades, remarkably connected to the main reigning family but was infamously low-profiled. Despite this, he needed to verify few things. He decided to withhold such information as per Michael's cryptic instructions. Sharing it with Ragnell's team would create an opening from the other side. While Ragnell's objective was for the entirety, Alfred's was very specific: are these perpetrators after Ian and Anthony?

It was strangely rainy for a Saturday morning outset. Striding along enemy grounds wasn't an unknown feeling for Alfred. He saw a decent coffee shop across the street and decided to settle there. Garbed in dark olive green tee inside a thick reversible jet-black full-zip jacket, smoky topaz slim straight jeans and black and blue running shoes, Alfred felt at ease somehow to be in similar rhythm of social air the place suggested. He looked undeniably handsome despite his age. His newly cut salt and pepper hair matched his three-days-old trimmed facial hair. Little grayish stubble accentuated his maturity. His green eyes were deeply penetrating as the lady who opened the door for him blushed fiercely when he saluted in return.

Conveniently, he found a cozy spot perfect for his cover-up. After a waitress took his porchetta sandwich and flat white coffee, he flicked open his Iphone to patch up a secured connection. Next thing is prepping his laptop. He opened only two programs: his Lycos mail and a strange MS-DOS interface. He remembered to read an article provided by Ragnell's assistant; Gilrey Lesfield. The zipped PDF file remained idle in his Lycos drafts. Only Gilrey and Alfred shared access to the said Lycos account. It was risky to send emails so he agreed accessing the account where Gilrey stored the article. It was neat and simple. Alfred noticed two imposing things about the file. First was its unusual title and second was the file itself is not encrypted or password-protected. However the zip file where the PDF is compressed is heavily encrypted. The folder's security architecture was quite notable. Gilrey told Alfred that two incorrect attempts of password input and the file will initiate an untraceable and irrecoverable auto shred. Comprehensively impenetrable, it is secured by high level anti-hacking software systematically embedded within the zip file. Moreover, both the zipped folder and the file inside cannot be replicated easily.

"Like Earth's mantle…extremely dense." Alfred muffled in approval.

Unzipping the file, a dialogue box popped, prompting a passcode. With his extraordinary mental edge, Alfred smoothly typed a sixteen-digit keyword within a second. The extracted PDF file materialized before his eyes, it read: _"In Pages…It Shed"_. Alfred smiled faintly. He double clicked it and no further code was asked. The PDF file contained a long lost article written by a freelancer centuries ago. It stitched a parched, yellow-stained newspaper, which, although decrepit and almost rubbish, preserved the significant portion Alfred needed. This particular piece of article was of great exclusivity for the fact that even Ragnell doesn't even know much about it. Michael, who obviously extracted the document with the help of someone, explicitly stated that it is only for Alfred's final and official custody. Ragnell, displeased by the fact that there was obviously an unexploited boundary Alfred is steering, didn't bother arguing since Michael's directive was incontestable. Although at some point Alfred detested Ragnell's character, he can't help but admire the man's loyalty, trust and competence. He was just stern but not begrudging.

Alfred was slowly gripped by the articles' material. But it didn't distract him from activating his "Detect". He was still flawlessly reading the movements of his surroundings. The signature energy flow of each living and non-living things around him were perfectly identifiable. It is, as what many says, his mind was like a mass of high-speed, inexhaustible information processor. It is an irony that very few of the current generation's high-profile figures are scarce of individuals exceptionally talented in "Detect". Only few known professionals inside the intelligence division specializing in scouting duties can equal a Sentinel's Detect skill, let alone a fully-enhanced version.

Alfred momentarily felt nostalgic. He remembered his days in ALSGOR. That was the time that he was still a normal human but his reputation was legendary. Possessing superb standards of physical and intellectual prowess, he was indubitably a feared unit. He recalled all the high caliber technology that assisted him in every infiltration. Now it felt lightweight. Nowadays, he only needed two devices (or even one would suffice) to carry out his reconnoitering. Techs were just buffers while Detect had been an all-rounder tool.

The weird MS-DOS program was actually a secured chat room directly connected to Ragnell's laptop. On the other end Ragnell is communicating with Alfred from time to time, exchanging information and updates from their ends. In addition for overseeing the rest of data-mining and surveying of his Intel team, he needed pieces of lead from him in order to purge numerous variables that evidently impeded any progress from their Intel missions.

When he took a second bite of his sandwich he noticed the arrival of three persons. They were a quarter mile of west away from him. With the exception that these two suppressed their energy level at the lowest point, Alfred was able to capture and familiarize their aura from his last voyage at Enniscorthy. The twins and…a third one? The twin's presence pulsated with strange signature of wariness, longingness and to his interest—suppressed anger, a sheltered vengeance. The third one however made him wary. He failed to recall if this third person was present during his previous mission. What alerted him was his strange presence. He was devoid of any human or inhuman character. His aura, though Alfred can barely detect, was completely _blank_. He noticed as well a distinct feature of the person's behavior. He was also observing.

For ages passed, Alfred hasn't met a person who is proficiently equipped in the arts of Detect and Conceal. At least he knew that these things were exclusively passable from Michael that he considers Anthony a gifted successor. But it was also safe to assume that none of their enemies knew about it. Michael himself accounted that their enemies where _adapting_. It is therefore feasible that their adversaries may have learned something similar.

Currently, one thing was clear for Alfred. The person is dangerous. He was tempted to measure his might but exercised restraint. He noticed the guy's erratic patterns of energy level and suspected he might raise his sensing abilities at short notice. He was even compelled to cover his Detect with higher level of Conceal. Examining deep into his powers would technically expose his location.

There may finally be some form of invisible lines that draw this stumping tapestry laid before him. It was something he eagerly wanted to unravel. The presence of this third person just made things more complicated. Used to mysteries though, he felt a tad bit relieved that some inkling emanated. Through centuries of encounters, even before he was still human, he was competently capable of beating anonymous challenges. The presence of this _third one_ was openly a good progress. His connections are consequential. Is he a relative of the two or another outsider? Perhaps this unforeseen adjustment could puncture a light over these darkened notions.

He continued reading while maintaining Detect at acceptable level. Alfred's emerald eyes constricted when he caught sight of an intriguing portion of the article.

" _Another distressing encounter…purported to be a distraction from an internal disagreement; the Gades and Hipstein nevertheless strike a deal to end the incessant war. However an anonymous envoy sent by a family, who were very close to the Gades disclosed that none of these peace talks would alter their initial decision. He expressed gratitude for the resolve the main family made but stated that as their longtime retainer they will not cease seeking justice. If need be they will work independently. As far as the revelations divulged, retribution was the stronger presaging for the former."_

"Who the hell is this envoy?" Alfred whispered.

The article was enough to implicate their existence. But who are they precisely? The piece wasn't explicit to point out who was this family closely tied to the Gades. Although it was particular that the war between them involved the neutral domain of Sentinels and their _subject_ s, the identity of the supposed avengers nonetheless remained unknown. Then it hit him. Alfred realized that if a warring family's main objective was to eliminate a current heir of Hipstein, only few of them can be filtered from that category. This information, although chaotic as it transpired long ago, remained incredibly hidden from the outside world and even the main locale of Irish Sphere are oblivious about it. The elements were little…but still complex.

"Reading deep between the lines?" Alfred deduced resolutely. "I'm not even very knowledgeable of Hipstein's oldest rivals."

But Alfred apprehended that it can be sieved pretty well. He also understands the implication of quality over quantity. There are few filterable people out there and they are extremely vigilant ones. This scouting mission has to be very secretive too.

"I guess funny security tricks for this article were not meant for nothing." He assessed.

When he noticed the distance between him and the three subjects were strangely close he adjusted his Detect. Through years of exhaustive training, Alfred learned how to manipulate the shape of his Detect. He can either outline it as solid as a globular circle of array or shape an intermittent formless mass of blob. He, for once, witnessed how Michael used a hybrid form of Detect which exhibited a perfectly maintained circular shape with an amorphous section forking out. He used this extended, shapeless branch to specifically pursue a target. What's more astounding was he used very thin string lines of Detect that locks with targets. Even though a person is thousands of miles away Michael can still trace his/her location. Alfred trained hard to emulate the same feat but was staggered by its meticulous utility and hefty after-effects. Though he failed to replicate Michael's unique Detect he received a by-product of his relentless practice. The ability to switch so quick between shapes as fast as Michael's standards could praise, was enough to earn him the exclusivity of his current assignments.

" _Impressive…"_ Alfred mentally noted. "He's indeed watching."

It wasn't really difficult to trace down his targets after his initial spying. Sifting through logs and appointments Alfred was pleased by Ragnell's adroitness for delivering him information of his subjects' engagements within hours. With the mere information of their previous location, Ragnell's team was able to piece out an informative material for Alfred's current targets.

Intricate as it was, Alfred noticed also the increased caginess of the twins. He detected a fourth person inching close to them. His energy flow was as relaxed as normal people around them do. He deduced that this guy might be their business acquaintance. Or might he be disguising his intentions?

" _Enough with the paranoia will you?"_ Alfred scolded himself mentally. Although he was quick to perceive a shift in his thinking he can't deny that he was disturbed by the presence of this third person.

Guinssel's Espresso, the coffee shop he cozied up was around three lots to northwest of Corinthian's Alcove, the bistro his subjects went in. Adjacent to it were other few coffee shops lay. He can see a male and female butler of Café Ed Rivia inviting every passerby. Two local policemen sauntered in front of the cafes, the butlers saluted them and the two nodded in return. A cyclist donned in dark raincoat skidded across the restaurant. Few commoners passed, strolling in opposite directions, minding their own business. Alfred felt safe and determined, but his instinct cries an obscured impression that something is off.

The inexorable lament of the sky reflected an impeccable disguise—both for him and for his enemies. Is this an impasse? Fate moaned like a lone wolf, rattling an approaching tempest of confrontations. Before Alfred knew it, the delicately designed table his laptop, coffee and sandwich are laid, split in to two followed by an earsplitting grazing burst of splintered woods, shattered glasses and broken equipment and furniture. None of the shouts and scream of startled commoners outwitted the crashing might of splintered building Alfred was in.

Next thing he knew, he was standing a few meters away from two imminent figures. The chilling droplets of rainy Saturday trickled down Alfred's mature face. He maintained a solid posture, his face unresponsive.

He failed to secure his things, his location. Clutching his Iphone like it's the only prized possession he has for survival, he sensed his opponents sending lethal ether that tried hard intimidating him.

"Cornered…" said by a bald man, with a mildly hulking stature. He was clad in darkness, save his half-shaven expression, which was also outlined by rolling beads of cold precipitations casted down by the unforgiving heavens above, weeping for an orchestral score only few could appreciate.

"See? Am I incorrect?" muttered dourly by a slimmer man. His figure was almost one third only of the other that Alfred mistook him for a trunk of birch tree until he prattled.

Although they were spouting their almost triumphant interrogation for discovering their target's surreptitious infiltration, Alfred was intently staring at the unveiled presence of three persons gazing straight back at him at Corinthian's Alcove.

Unperturbed, the girl beside the taller guy stated with an unyielding tone. "We need to bring _him_ down."

"Don't be reckless." Azlirel warned. "Neither of us could take him on. Tales might be partially unconvincing but his reputation isn't just a fable to be defied."

"Cover me…" Aucelus declared decisively.

Cross and Azlirel leaned their heads in unison when they heard their brother opting for an offensive. Without responding, the two returned their gaze to their target.

"If we can narrow the specifics and work in unanimity with Lesper and Vallm…we can pin him down." Aucelus added, gradually discharging the restraints of his powers.

" _Don't get distracted…even these two beside me is dangerous enough."_ Alfred thought critically.

"Did Michael send you?" Lesper inquired jobwise.

"Of course that monstrous oaf did." Vallm interjected, respect faint in his voice.

"I'll ask you this mister…you have two options." Lesper folded his arms, leaning against the tree. "Walk away. Your intercession is not warranted anymore by the current generation. This is not the era you're supposed to trample with."

"Or?" Alfred intercepted, surprised himself by the daringness and firmness of his voice, his eyes still locked towards the three siblings.

"Intervene and you'll face death worse than the Alphensteins and Slithsteins could offer." Lesper ended.

Alfred was vexed and captivated by Lesper's professional orientation especially his knowledge of his past animosity with Alphensteins and Slithsteins. The former was a mortal enemy he had sworn to wipe the existence on the face of the earth while the latter almost took his life for good. He took note of it, not that Vallm lacks these traits, but Lesper was something a level higher against the Slithstein brothers. He can sense also that mercy is non-existent and loyalty was of high cause that pacifying with him was unworkable. He discerned Vallm on the other hand as brash but of equal threat as Lesper. He felt Vallm's aura as ominous and steadfast. Alfred also commended them for suppressing their raw powers in order to infiltrate (though partially unsuccessful) his Detect zone. He admittedly had milliseconds to evade their fatal strike. Probably he was so used to surprises that his cautious nature always comes in handy.

"You amaze me though. We have to carefully pinpoint you to reduce the possibility of your nonstandard reflexology hampering our attack, and yet you still eluded us." Vallm acclaimed Alfred, neutralizing his impatient demeanor earlier with a more staid countenance. Lesper sighed, muttering the words that sounded like a judgment to Alfred's ultimate fate.

"You think this is a deadlock? Don't even think that we're underestimating you. You are a legend Alfred but your intrusion is a capital offense for our objectives." Lesper shifted his phase, switching to an aggressive stance.

"We'll make sure that prying was the last deed you ever devoted for in this world." Vallm pronounced with deadly intent.

"You'll indeed be remembered as a myth in books…" Lesper coldly stated.

As Alfred raised his guard against Lesper and Vallm he placed his Iphone inside his zipped pocket, deciding that his jacket was a lame choice for hiding his mobile phone. Far ahead he can see Cross, Azlirel and Aucelus extending a menacing aura.

What else could be in someone's head when threatened by these powerful foes? Had there been a similar reenactment of Michael's past challenges? As much as Alfred's mind wanted to delve through his accounts, his heart and soul was always one with his mind. He remained impassive but valiant. That never changed.

" _It's not yet the end, right?"_ A voiced whispered. This time it wasn't Anthony, it was Rob.


	7. Chapter 7 - It Was Also Today

**Okay, okay, time for the fluffiness. Well don't get too excited yet pips! This isn't the real deal yet! Anyway, just read the rest. I got fond writing this one, so I'm excited how you Ianthony shippers feels for this.**

 **CHAPTER 7: IT WAS ALSO TODAY**

As much as he despises seeing him, Anthony seemingly have no option but to seek Michael's counsel. Ironically, the person he hates the most knows the most.

He tried other professionals, family or not. All their job profile fits to solving his problem. However it always felt oddly "off". There were just so many disclosure issues he had to consider when talking to them. It impeded any progress for finding the right answer.

In reality it was stupid of him to seek non-familial advice. Majority of his concerns were about the implications of his duties. There were tons of nooks and crannies he needs to uncover. Who else is in better position to fill him in? Whether Michael would tell him to figure it out on his own or things will fall into place, he doesn't care. Heck even if he fabricates a complex story, it would not stop him. He needs answers right now…or at least clues.

After three hours, Ian's history class with professor Menzies would be over. Menzies was peculiarly interesting when it comes to history. Anthony was surprised that she was able to keep up with Ian's volatile listening skills. Menzies consistently brought her sessions with Ian to a randomly interesting ways. Ian can be haughty and stupid, but he can be out of his league when something ticks his wits.

Attractive and brilliant as she may seems, Anthony was not entirely fond of her. He always wore an apathetic air whenever he meets Menzies escorting Ian outside their room. When pushed to conversation, Anthony will always be casual but ephemeral with words. Two years had passed and she returned the same treatment to Anthony. They just never speak candidly with each other. Menzies knows that Anthony was some sort of bodyguard for Ian so she might not have taken personally Anthony's dispiritedness towards her.

 _You don't trust her?_ Anthony's subconscious mind questioned.

To Anthony's convenience Michael set his meeting within the building Ian is attending his history class. He knows every room and facilities the building has. Most of all it's no surprise that he can easily reserve room for cloistered forums.

It was always kind of Michael to help Anthony almost about everything except when it is directly about Ian's safety. To all irony befell, Michael has undeniable array of power and influence. But he can never lift a finger to directly safeguard the most secretly valuable person in Hipstein. It was something the _contract_ forbids. Something Anthony understood and found appalling and saddening.

When Anthony entered the room it was needlessly quiet. Something of such gorgeous shade and fussy ambiance just needed a mix of 1940's track. Two tall windows were open, with drapes properly tied to welcome the beaming sun. To his far left pranced the silhouette of a man, slowly forming the actual shape.

"Coffee or tea?" Michael offered.

"I'm fine." Anthony refused.

"You should. Follow me." Michael insisted, striding across the room towards the counter of what seemed to be a kitchen.

Anthony eyed him, following him slowly into the room.

"I won't be guessing anymore why you are here, so take your time telling me what again confuses you." Michael said indifferently, picking up two mugs, spoons and saucers from a cupboard and poured hot coffee from a brewer sitting few feet from the sink. He and Anthony settled in the counter, opposite each other. He pushed some ceramic canisters of what appeared to be creamer and sugar.

"About this information you shared…" Anthony started, dropping his hostile and curious expression. Michael gazed at him attentively while sipping his coffee first.

"I'm aggravated by the fact that this anarchic method of involving us seems to have gone for so many years." Anthony continued, although he was sure that Michael knew what he might be referring to, he quickly inserted a side note to emphasize what he was about to brief him.

"About these people who helped the Gades…I hypothesized that it has something to do with you." Anthony waited, surveying Michael.

"Your theory?" Michael raised his brows, placing his hands around his mug of coffee, intently inspecting Anthony.

"I suspect it has fallen to your roots. These guys won't stop hurting our family until something very dear to _you_ is taken away." Anthony sipped his coffee. He frowned a little when he noticed the strong bitterness. He was sure that he added the right amount of sugar. He draws a mental note that everything Michael has to say to him will nothing be as sugar-coated.

"Of all the crazy things I've witnessed from this family, our case as Sentinels protecting the successors is the most obvious answer. Who cares so dearly about us? Nobody…" Anthony pursed his lips, his eyes not leaving Michael.

"…except for _you_. I'm perfectly aware that you can't do anything direct to take the obligation from us. No matter how much it breaks your heart, you can only spectate. And that is why you made us abnormally powerful but neutral across the politics of Hipstein and even the outside world. Now…these guys would do so much as to tap a dangerous boundary. Considering the treaty you conceded with them still doesn't stop them from hurting us. So tell me…" Anthony paused. He leaned closer to the counter, setting his both hands in front of him, almost like praying, and still not breaking his gaze with Michael.

"What is it that you did with these guys?" Anthony finished, covering his voice with precise mix of inquisitiveness and indictment.

Michael remained unruffled, his contemplation unbroken. Anthony surmised that he has no way to lie to him. Hell forbids that he has some stories up his sleeve to sway Anthony's keenness.

"I wounded them…" Michael finally muttered. His green eyes straightly bore through Anthony's brown ones. Although it was evident that Michael was still expressionless and unpredictable, Anthony was surprised by his unlikely revelation. Before Anthony could even immerse his mind into thinking that he might be just making up a story, Michael continued nonetheless.

"The past was crazy. I have sinned…a lot. There are people who I've scarred so bad. Making them live a miserable life was the greatest revenge I could yearn for. And then it cost me. I failed to see human intuition and adaptiveness. They mirrored me for who I was in the past. It was the same sequence of events." Michael halted, took another sip of his coffee. It was the first time he broke his eye contact with Anthony.

"Basically everything I did in the past backfired. You might be wondering why I have never told you this before. I never really anticipated these guys, or probably I never bother to care anyway." At the last bit of Michael's sentence, Anthony narrowed his brown eyes. Michael expected it.

It was unlikely for Michael to be thoughtless of situations that might bear repercussions to the equilibrium of Hipstein _successorship_ , especially the peace of the entire family. This moment however, Anthony can sense the gradual drop of Michael's impassiveness. He guessed he was fed up. But then he might just be acting. He remained wary of Michael's strange honesty.

"I always trusted every Sentinel's capability. Each one of you does not only possess the power and attitude to effectively carry out the duty. It was your ability to love that truly sets you apart from other contenders. When that love propagates it can achieve the highest form of…" Michael lingered, not yet aware of Anthony's sudden change of thought. Anthony supposed again of Michael's manipulative air. It was always something he felt when Michael is explaining something about the highest rate of safety a Sentinel can deliver for his _subject_. Michael soon noticed and shot his green eyes towards Anthony. It glinted with candor which Anthony cannot deny, much to his surprise.

"I didn't allow the _contract_ to write your genes so you would completely submit to my behest. I never toyed with your ability to love. Because the least I could do for an heir to not live miserably is for them to be loved while they are still alive. You and your predecessors succeeded on that matter."

Anthony didn't utter a word. He was startled by Michael's words but also took a few moments to scan his face. Michael on the other hand took another sip of his coffee, never breaking his stare with Anthony.

"Do not linger over these dreaded feelings Anthony. It will just hurt you even more." Michael said with finality in his tone.

Anthony stared for a few moments on his mug.

"About that…" he stammered. Anthony always thought it was easy to spill out his guts to Michael, let alone Ian. But right now it felt really difficult.

"Ian." Anthony mustered confidence.

"What about him?" Michael replied.

"I've been acting really strange around him. It gotten to the point that he notices this and thought that I'm overreacting." Anthony paused, absentmindedly twirling the spoon in his right hand.

"Is it odd that I'm exceedingly protective of him? Now that I think of it, this is probably why I hate you so much too. But then again, I always end up confused." Anthony groaned, clearing his throat and glimpsed at Michael.

"I'm always at this abyss of thoughts that if something so little would happen to him I'm plain scared. He always looks so…fragile."

"You're in love with him." Michael unexpectedly interjected. Anthony grimaced, sending a perplexed look directly at Michael who remained unflinching, staring at him blankly in exchange. He tried to register what he just said. Gaping, Anthony attempted to open his mouth but Michael drowned his effort by his frank discourse.

"Listen Anthony, this is not the first case that _this_ happens." Michael explained openly.

"Your predecessors where in the same situation."

"Wh-" Anthony was still disorganized.

"You think it's wrong?" Michael guessed.

"It sounds to me that you're getting too swayed with the books and media, or probably anything else, I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong for that because I see you right now, extremely confused." When Michael saw Anthony still looking dumbfounded he continued.

"I will not repeat this anymore. You two are not bound by anything in this world. You only belong to him. He only belongs to you. You protect and _take care_ of him until he reaches the finish line. Whatever you felt was genuine." Michael finished. He took the last of his coffee and stood to fetch a glass of water. He beckoned to Anthony if he wanted one. Anthony nodded whilst remaining motionless and not uttering any word. He slowly felt a heat clump forming in his throat. Michael neighed silently, briefly catching a sight of Anthony's face contorting in obvious incredulity.

" _I am?_ "Anthony surmised.

"Just act on it before it's too late." Michael shook his head, sighing.

Everything was befuddling to him. Then suddenly it hit him. All this time around Anthony wasn't so sure what he harbored deep inside him. It all adds up. The moment he unraveled the remaining time Ian has in this world he felt sadly concerned. Each moment he sees him getting hurt over petty things, he felt almost hysterical. Whenever Ian hangs with other people, even though it was only school, he felt a bit irritated…or to be precise—jealous. He even trekked back the simple times that he was with him. The way he looks at him when he picks up things in the living room or kitchen. He thought of himself a bit strange now he recalls it. The moment when he quickly avoids eye contact when Ian senses he was staring at him. His stomach churns, heart pounding, heat forming in his cheeks whenever Ian innocently hugs him. Most especially were the nights they sleep together. He recalled it being normal. After all they've been living together like inseparable siblings. But the moment this awkwardness started, Ian's cuddles felt in between repulsing and endearing. He wanted his hugs to last but opt to end it soon for fear of knowing. Knowing what?

 _What's happening to me?_ Anthony asked himself.

Knowing what?

" _That I love him? Love him more than a friend? Loved him than a brother?"_ Thoughts stormed inside Anthony's head.

"I'm in love with him?" Anthony finally uttered the words, furrowing his brows he glanced over Michael who leaned coolly besides the kitchen sink drinking water. Michael only stared back at him, wanting to tell him how staggered he was.

"You're in _love_ with him." Michael repeated, with obvious emphasis on the _word_.

Michael always made sense. Was Anthony in position to doubt him more? The hatred he always felt towards the man slowly subsided. He knows how much Michael gave up reaching his goals, his truly altruistic aims. Whilst he knew the consequences it created and how his past actions seem almost unforgivable. But he always felt pity for him. His tiny compassion made room inside his heart to believe what Michael is advising him. Why would he even play with his feelings now? Michael is a man who knows his worth his salt. Ian remained a great importance even for him. To him, Anthony and Ian were like his children.

But Anthony was suddenly scared. If he accepts the truth there were only two paths to choose. Either he confesses or continues to keep it a secret. The latter will just be an endless loop. The former was daunting. He was not sure how Ian would respond. Did he feel the same? As Anthony recalled Ian always acted childish and normal around him. Even when Anthony started acting strange, Ian would typically ask him if something was wrong. Though he is pushy about the issue, his deep concerns always felt platonic. His love always falls on that level. He didn't want to destroy that. Something like this out of the blue comes out and what's he going to tell? But then there was nowhere to go. He's sick of lying and pretending. And it dawned to him that fear is just another shit to conquer. He felt resolved. No matter what happens he will never leave Ian's side. Even if it means rejecting him for all eternity. Ian might hate him for the rest of his life but he doesn't care anymore. Will that situation be really that awful anyway?

Anthony gradually accepted the truth. Michael could tell the brightness in his face when he looked at him the second time. He saw confidence. He saw relief. It is the passion burning when he christened Anthony to take responsibility of Ian. It was that day. It was also today.

"He always felt cold" Anthony murmured.

Michael smiled weakly and faced Anthony sternly, his voice tinted with positivity.

"Then he needs you closer."

Anthony finished his coffee and stood.

"I should be leaving now." Anthony said, almost apologetically and thankfully. He drank half of the glass of water Michael offered and stood.

Michael nodded in return.

When Anthony reached the door outside the main room Michael reminded him.

"I have great confidence over your will Anthony."

Anthony halted midway tilting his head slightly.

"Thanks."

Anthony then disappeared, into the hallway without looking back.

Michael paced back to the opposite room where he emerged earlier to greet Anthony. There, he pressed open his cellphone and prompted a call.

"How are things there?" Michael inquired.

The person's response on the other side of the call made him close his eyes momentarily for contemplation.

"Alright. Ensure everything is monitored. Make this a high priority." Michael muttered.

Michael shifted his head toward his right where a towering glass window stood proudly. The beams of light passed through, reflecting specks of dust hovering in midair. His green eyes penetrated the surroundings of the school.

 _Conflict_. The thought resonated inside Michael's mind, echoing an incoming storm.

* * *

 _An hour and three quarters._ Anthony's watch read.

 _Should I…?_ Anthony surmised for a second. "I guess donuts…" He raised his brows.

He debated over himself if his fear and excitement would throw Ian's safety in jeopardy. He wanted to buy him donuts right away, but leaving the hot zone even for just few minutes would be risky. He shrugs the idea and went straight the hallway he strode, climbed a few stairs and stumbled upon a huge library.

He felt relieved, probably even more elated. Michael just told him what was stupidly obvious from the very start. How could he have not realized it?

"You're in _love_ with him." Michael's voice reverberated inside his thoughts. He could feel his face reddening. Most of all Michael told him that there was nothing wrong about it. Best friends? Brothers? Heck they even looked more like lovers as some people commented. I only belong to him. He belongs to me. We're not bound by the world or anyone. _Except for the_ _contract_. Anthony's heart began racing again. But he felt scared somehow. Because as much as Anthony feels so free and sure now, he's not entirely sure how Ian would have felt on the other hand. There was still ambiguity. He feared for Ian's reaction.

 _Does he feel the same?_

There was no denying about what Anthony really felt. He flicked open a book but his mind was all over Ian. He's just killing time. He recalled the simple but strange moments that he was paying close attention to him. For one instance Ian was dancing and Anthony always joked around about how undersized his shirt was that it keeps revealing his pale skinned belly, and remarked it as "unsightly". Ian would only counter by boasting his perfect twerking skills which prove silly when they had showdowns. He scoffed the memories, smirking at his silliness.

Again the pang of sadness recoiled. He's getting colder and colder. Anthony recalled when they were seven. Ian's body temperature was abnormally cold. It was until his final training that Michael told him it was the sign of _contracts'_ gene manipulation. It sounds funny before, but right now he's alarmed. Ian pleads to sleep beside him. His clothing also gets thicker and thicker. Even if it's summer he is weirdly dressed in long sleeves.

 _It was like watching someone slowly dying._

Anthony closed his eyes. Clearing his head, he waited time to pass. He was tired of all the things rambling inside his head. He wanted to eat donuts already.

* * *

"So was Irish history interesting now?" A woman dressed in plaid polo shirt and dark skinny jeans asked. She looked amazingly youthful. The glow on her face made her even more bright and lively.

"Nah, I'm sick of it. Not to mention I'm here in Dublin, my ancestral place tells me I've had enough." Ian expressed haughtily.

"You're lying." Menzies shook her head, smiling.

"So next time…Greece? Something ticks?" She offered. Ian shrugged. Shuffling his books and finally stood.

"It'll be worth your time if you tried those specific books I mentioned earlier."

"Okay I will. I should be going now. Bye." Ian departed, grinning.

As he was heading outside the room, Anthony suddenly popped beside him. Ian jumped and cursed him.

"Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!" Ian screeched.

"Whoah! Language!" Anthony retorted.

"I was just about to text you. I suppose you were waiting for me again inside the library but you changed you mind?" Ian sighed.

When Ian was about to talk, Anthony intercepted his sentence immediately. He knew he would be asking for lunch.

"Donuts?"

"That's an odd choice for lunch." Ian frowned but sniggered shortly.

"But you know what? I'm kind of full today so why not donuts?" Ian affirmed.

"So donuts it will be."

Anthony felt a bit relieved, much to his surprise, that he can still converse normally with Ian. This newfangled feeling storming inside him was about to burst recently, shattering his conscience and sanity altogether. He pulled all his might to contain it, withhold it further, he needed more time.

As Anthony drove outside Silent Harrow midway he noticed Ian fidgeting. He would from time to time rub his hands and cupped the other alternately. Anthony knew that he was doing this because he was feeling cold again. Out of whim he pulled his right hand out and placed it beside Ian, who noticed him and sulked. Although looking a bit puzzled Ian grabbed his hand and prattled.

"This really looks weird?" Ian said. Anthony didn't mind. Ian was occasionally watching him thinking if it was a prank or something, but Anthony was just straightly focused ahead.

"Why the heck are your hands so warm? I've touched other people and was different. Well not to mention that they would flinch away from me and babble how strangely cold my hands were." Ian lingered, glancing at Anthony briefly.

"You know what? I've noticed that every time I touched your hand the coldness seems to drift away at least for a day or two. Oh yeah. I used to touch your hands when we were still young you remember? Didn't you find that strange?" Ian hypothesized inquisitively.

"Maybe we're like positive and negative?" Anthony muttered, glimpsing at Ian.

"That's so otherworldly." Ian scoffed.

" _What the fuck is so otherworldly besides this family anyway?"_ Anthony sarcastically trailed inside his mind.

Now that Ian mentioned it, Anthony realized that whenever Ian touches his hands the coldness would neutralize. The funny thing though is that he is the only one who can. Other people's warmth weren't fittingly enough for the coldness. When they were young Anthony's lasted around a week and he would offer his hands unknowingly whenever Ian complains that his hands were cold again. It now dawned to him that probably he was meant to regularly touch Ian's hand or even embrace him to shake off the coldness.

" _He may not know it, hell even I was dumb to not notice it. That's probably the reason why he likes to have sleepover occasionally"._ Anthony guessed at the back of his mind.

When Ian was satisfied he let go of Anthony's hands.

"Thanks dude." Ian uttered casually. It was like the old days of their childhood he thanked Anthony for doing him a favor.

Ian was damping his palms over his face when Anthony suddenly poked him in the cheek and told him in surprise.

"Your cheeks are even cold."

"Yeah that's why I'm placing my hands over my face." Ian answered nonchalantly.

Anthony impulsively raised his right hand to place it softly over Ian's left cheek. To his surprise Ian didn't protest instead Anthony felt the weight of Ian's head in his hand. Ian ran his left hand to grab softly Anthony's wrist. Out of nowhere Anthony's heart pounded. He swore that Ian might have heard it if the car was quieter. Ian sneered and mumbled.

"This is really weird huh? But I don't mind at all. My face is like a freezer."

Anthony idly strokes his thumb on Ian's face, without the other noticing. Either Ian's thoughts were astray or he didn't mind at all, Anthony took the opportunity to touch Ian's pale, smooth cheeks. He momentarily closes his eyes in comfort, relishing the moment he is intimately close to him.

" _Damn, I am in love with him. Did someone really need to spell that out for me?"_

Few minutes passed and the two parked outside the nearest donut shop. Upon entering the chain Ian mentioned to Anthony how he liked those twisted type donuts and asked him if he would like to try one. Anthony at first refused and took notice of Ian's impassiveness. Then suddenly he catches up telling him he would love to try one.

"Maybe I should take a break from the classic glazed donut hole." Anthony added. He paid close attention to how Ian's vacant face transformed into an enthusiastic, boyish grin.

Anthony went to a fridge nearby to get some milk. He found himself oddly fond of milk when he and Ian are eating donuts. Although coffee is generally a fantastic pair for donuts but milk was just unusually delightful. Anthony remarked sometimes that donuts were the "greatest and worst thing the world created", explaining how it tastes so good but makes you so fat. Ian didn't mind as his body was abnormally structured. No matter how much fattening food he ate he does not gain weight easily. Anthony doesn't mind as well because he has a killer exercise.

Anthony was surprised that Ian volunteered to eat their lunch at home, whilst eating a piece while travelling back. Ian excused about a _project_ he was trying to finish. Anthony knew that no matter how much he interrogate and pry over Ian's "Triple S business" (Triple stands for Super Strangely Secretive) he will not spill anything. Most of them turn out as pranks to his dismay.

He guessed he could wait. Out of respect he let this humble instant transpire before his eyes. It was a reenactment of their childhood. What they used to be. But things were a bit different now. Anthony closed his eyes, shutting all thoughts. His head drifted to a place where peace was always a warm but distant thing to long for.


	8. Chapter 8 - Secret of My Heart

**Something lengthy. I'm getting close to the first climax of this story (there are two by the way, and you might know how the second one would go *wink*). Time to introduce the characters that stitched Anthony and Ian's past. There are tons of smoochy fluffiness but I tried to build the progress of this chapter. The first climax is important to learning Anthony's current trial. And here it goes...**

 **CHAPTER 8: SECRET OF MY HEART**

"You've got to be kidding me right?" Ian said with an exasperated disbelief etched across his bristly, youthful face, which Anthony thought more of a scowl or a derisive censure.

"Come on Ant, I have no time for this…" Ian pleaded.

Anthony didn't budge. His face was traceless of emotion. Nothing in his countenance permitted sympathy for letting Ian pass the shame of doing his cruel bid.

"It literally looks like garbage!" Ian grunted disdainfully, albeit trying his best to stress his scorn in hushed tone. Anthony glared inopportunely at him. They were in a pub with a handful of bustling crowd, probably not anymore minding their business since the two of them are bickering whether a bowl of quinoa lentil salad tastes amazing despite looking unpleasant, at least for Ian's taste.

Anthony tapped his index finger, gesticulating at Ian's fork, chilling on the left side of his salad bowl. His face was as unruffled and pokerfaced as he could muster. Besides, Ian has in no position to protest, because losing miserably in a Smash Brother showdown yields a submission to Anthony's "torture challenges", and yes with an "s". Ian sneered. The salad was just a starter kit for Anthony's hellish menace of punishing comebacks.

"Before mixing, it was unappealing…now everything's combined, it looks even worse." Ian complained insistently, watching unenthusiastically his crystal clear bowl of salad.

Ian picked his fork and poked a bunch of leafy and seedy stuff. He took a moment to glimpse Anthony who was nonetheless eyeing him attentively. Sighing and coldshouldering Ian snuck the food inside his mouth, munching in few seconds and decided mentally what expression to flaunt. The salad was surprisingly not bad, Ian judged. But he did not exhibit any sign of relief. Because doing so allows Anthony to make the next challenge substantially difficult. Ian displayed an impassive air, taking few seconds to create his deceptive façade.

"So…how was it?" Anthony eyed him suspiciously, contentedly chewing his cured sausage salad. Ian pulled his strength to fake a successful attempt of the quinoa lentil.

"Not bad but still horrible…"

"Don't forget you still have the Red Potato Colcannon…" Anthony reminded him, beckoning on Ian's right side where a bowl of Red Potato Colcannon awaits happily.

"If this is trash, that's just shit." Ian criticized mercilessly.

"Stop swearing on food like that!" Anthony ranted.

"Oh, look who is talking. I recall you're the one who is so judgmental and picky of things. Especially food." Ian fired back.

Anthony didn't retort. He knew Ian was right. Between the two of them, Anthony was the most duteous when it comes to food. Two things are always on the top of his priority; presentation and taste. But the former always clouds his judgment. Anthony is led to believe (although it is arguable) that if presentation fails the taste follows. Ian had fun remembering this. Anthony's notorious finicky taste had led him to force feed him tons of foreign stuffs when he's on the losing side. To Anthony's dismay, all of Ian's choices for him looked unappetizing.

"The fact you can't stomach shitty and dreadful presentation of the food I pick accentuates your trash-talking nature about food."

"We're not here to argue my meticulousness Ian…"

"Oh we're not are we?"

"You're here to submit to my demands."

"For losing over a Smash Brother battle? Shiny huh?"

Sighing, Anthony rubbed his temples in annoyance. Ian noticed this and quickly shifted his demeanor. All the time that Ian is childish and demanding that it scares him to see Anthony shying away from acting one. For him turning the tides into a mushy, selfish mess could irk Anthony unexpectedly. Probably he was just pressured? Ian knew that a small margin of Anthony's patience can be quite daunting sometimes.

He's always been serious, fastidious and vigilant because of duty. But he wasn't before. They were truly witless, arrogant children ever since anyone else even knew them. It is a rare opportunity that Anthony is exhibiting an interest to torment Ian. He just had to abide, like always.

"Whatever drifts your head Anthony…" Ian mumbled, seizing the Red Potato Colcannon and stuffing his mouth lethargically. He gnawed relentlessly, shaking his head mildly to ease Anthony's moodiness. Although Ian paraded a displeased look, Anthony beamed warmly. He appreciated the fact that even though Ian is being stubborn he is man enough to do his biddings, well, for losing of course.

"You'll be surprised to hear this but…" Anthony trailed, reaching his right hand over his sweatshirt pouch and revealing a brochure. It displayed an elaborate organized electronic, video game, expo. To Ian's delight it'll be held in New York. But he was skeptical as Anthony had been very paranoid and exaggerated over security, particularly when travelling. What did tick his mind to suddenly tour outside Silent Harrow? Is he pranking me? Ian's mind swam with elation and doubt.

"Don't worry. I've toned down my diligence. It's time to release some steam and flush stress down the toilet. You're right, life is too short." Anthony did his best to sound genuine, but Ian could only draw a mental comment that he was being too corny.

Ian chuckled, shaking his head in wonder.

"I'm not pranking you. I'd love to go there, don't you?"

"Why the hell are you asking me, of course I'd love to!"

"Then it's settled."

"Err, what about Michael?"

"Forget about him."

"Sure?"

"Dead sure."

"If he'll interfere?"

"I'll kill him then."

Ian scoffed.

"Getting cocky are we eh? Anyway, I just can't let this pass."

"Welcome aboard." Anthony invitingly alluded.

"How about Alfred?" Ian hoped.

"You know that's impossible, end of story."

Ian didn't pursue an argument. Sighing, he focused his mind into finishing the salad.

Suddenly rain fell like heaven was howling precipitously out of nameless despair. The two didn't care. Anthony watched as Ian prattled ceaselessly, not knowing that he almost emptied his Quinoa and Colcannon salads in the process.

* * *

Satisfied by the day, Anthony had to nudge Ian from his comfy slumber upon arriving home. Waking the blue-eyed man was not a rare instance he had to deal. It's a bit painful for him because Ian has been quite a sleepyhead nowadays. Michael needed not to spell it out for him. It was one of the contract's effects. He hated when peaceful moments like these that anxiety has to swoop and crush his momentum; a bitter reminder that heirs technically had the most unfair life in Hipstein.

Anthony was right, after waking Ian, the boy darted straight to his room. He didn't even bother discussing his elaborate plans for their trip in New York. He was simply tired. Anthony tried exhilarating him but was only responded with a tired smirk before hugging his hotdog pillow. Anthony understood what Ian is experiencing. He wanted to hug him, sleep with him and trespass his dream and confess his _love_. If only dreams were as easy as reality, he could have easily poured all his feelings. But now Anthony was dumb and spineless to declare any piece of his sentiments.

Clearing his mind, Anthony went to the living room. He grabbed his laptop and searched for New York. He spent a good twenty minutes studying the vicinity map. He took a permanent mental note of all nooks and crannies the place has to offer. Travelling with his subject is not always a carefree luxury. He still has to maintain constant vigilance. Recklessness has no room for Anthony's skill set. He reexamined his Detect skills and was satisfied by its unfailing sharpness.

" _I need more time…_ " he subconsciously talked inside his head. Anthony might be certain of what his true feelings are but he is still unsure of what the outcome may be. He was scared of the things that might happen after. All he needed is to search and muster the strength necessary to confess. Admission is something a great deal of courage is required to succeed. Anthony can weigh the mettle he has right now. And he was certain it's not yet enough.

Striding across the living room, he saw the distorted light coming out of Ian's room. He left the door ajar and from time to time check on him. He made sure that the living room's light will not create an annoying angle of skidding light so Ian's carefree snooze is left undisturbed.

Anthony went to his room. Too excited, he grabbed all the things necessary for their adventure in New York. He was tempted to wake Ian but hesitated. He could at least prepare in advance so as not to occupy his mind with apprehensions. Instead, while shoving shirts, cameras and gadgets, Anthony filled his head with countless plans to ensure his trip in New York with Ian would be one of the happiest moments of his life.

Anthony was about to cross the living room to find his sunglasses when he heard a faint murmur coming from Ian's room. Intrigued he tiptoed towards the slightly opened door and peeped. Silence. He waited a few seconds and when nothing was audible he left. After minutes of searching, Anthony finally found his sunglasses. Happily, he proceeded to his room but the feeble mumbling kicked in again. He skidded across and checked on Ian once more. Without counting a few seconds, he now heard clearly Ian's dozy, muttering. Anthony instantly felt worried. Slowly he slipped through the room to examine him closely.

" _G-give me my guns…"_ Ian grumbled while grappling his hotdog pillow. His bowl hair-cut looked disoriented. Anthony couldn't help but notice the sight of Ian's adorableness. Anthony smiled. He guessed that Ian was having a dream of Halo again. He remembered the same instance when he and his friends were playing a prank on him while he was asleep. Anthony shook his head and grinned. Even in dreams, Ian constantly thought of games.

But to Anthony's horror, Ian's dreamy, childish chants for video games turned to fits of scared grousing.

" _N…no…don't leave me here…it's cold…so cold…_ " Ian sobbed.

Anthony's eyes widened. He recalled a memory where Ian was lost in the woods and heard him faintly crying for help, they were the exact same terrified words. Probably when his body temperature gets down that this dreadful memories came haunting him in his dreams. Anthony's heart shrank as seeing his friend struggling. Slowly Anthony lays his sunglasses besides a table filled with Amiibos and skylander figurines.

" _S-somebody…anybody…please…help me…Ant…Ant…where are you?_ " Ian cried weakly, his voice choking and shaking in fear.

Anthony carefully lifted the thick sheets of Ian's bed and slithered beside him. He cautiously closed his distance to reach for Ian's fragile state. He slid his left hand to touch Ian's quivering arms draped over his hotdog pillow. Anthony was behind Ian now, almost embracing him. Anthony moved his head a little above Ian's to smell the mild soapy scent of his hair. Instantly, it brought back memories of their childhood where they innocently bathe together, splashing and laughing. When Anthony still hears Ian's shuddering voice, he raised his head to catch a glimpse of Ian's visage, he saw tears beading at the corner of his eyes. Nightmares can traumatize any person and Anthony knew the unsettling feeling it casts to anyone.

"Ian I'm here now." Anthony whispered, rubbing his left thumb behind Ian's left hand.

"You're fine now dude. I'll never leave you anymore. Never…" Anthony trailed, slowly tightening his embrace until Ian's wobbly mumbles calmed down.

Not even noticing, Anthony fell asleep too, coiled inseparably with his dearest, most loved friend.

* * *

Morning crept like an unstoppable courier of unshaded days waiting to be colored by anyone's decisive choices. Anthony's body clock never changed. Everything was still pitch dark but he knows the scent of dawn. It accurately flashed 5:00 A.M. in the morning. His chocolate brown eyes rummaged the ceiling. The dark brown surface of Ian's room stared back at him blankly. It felt weird that even though the entire room looked dim, he can distinguish colors and images at ease. Probably his sensing abilities heighten his ability to recognize things easily.

Anthony was about to raise himself when he noticed the weight of a person's half body cuddled on top of him. Still sleeping comfortably, Ian snuggled on top of Anthony's right side body, resting his head at shoulder level while his right hand wrapped across Anthony's chest. Anthony almost choked. He tried to contain the sudden burst of thumping beats his heart is causing. It felt so sudden and intense that he swore it might wake Ian. His stomach churned, he felt his face reddening. He can tell that his hands are getting sweaty.

What's worse was that Ian's position is conveniently tight. He could almost cover Anthony's entire body by his warm fondle. His legs are even entwined restfully at Anthony's. The other guy could only close his eyes in fear and confusion. But what was he thinking? It was an opportunity for him to be this intimately close to Ian. He needed only to savor the moment and just be with him. Hesitatingly, he raised his right hand and gently stroke Ian's smooth hair, relishing the feel to be this so close to the person he loved the most in the world.

Shortly, Anthony's head swam. His memory swirled colorfully to a time where anxiety was not even a known vocabulary for him. His feet strode a path where bright shades of blissful days waited patiently for him to discover. Anthony experienced a realm where dream felt so close to reality that a second could last for years. He felt the tiniest lapse of time as a compressed myriad of genuine euphoria. He wanted it to last…to never end. Everything was becoming more heartfelt. It is this same feeling that flows through him unremittingly when he is so close to an important person.

" _I'm in love with him…_ " Anthony trailed mentally, staggering deep breaths and expelling the pressure quietly.

Closing his resolve and pulling himself back, Anthony opened his eyes to see the impassive façade of Ian's ceiling gazing back at him again.

"Ian…" Anthony hummed, stroking Ian's fine hair again, slowly, ravishingly.

"We need to get up dude…" Anthony continued, carefully nudging the sleepy boy perched on top of him.

Anthony heard a grunt. When Ian ran his hand across Anthony's chest, mildly caressing his pectoralis, Anthony flinched, but pulled his strength to control his reflex, careful not to agitate Ian.

"Ian…time to get up." He insisted expectantly.

"W-why are you so…bossy?" Ian snoozed, heaving lazy sighs from his slumbered state.

"Don't you want to prepare for New York already? I already did, well almost eighty percent." Anthony whispered.

"That's…t-that's not even fair."

"Ian?"

"What is it Ant?"

"Don't you mind?"

"Mind what?"

"Are you not wondering why you're on top of me?"

It took a moment for Ian to absorb his surroundings but to Anthony's surprise Ian didn't panic as what he would expect.

"What about it?" Ian innocently replied.

"I think it's not normal." Anthony said coolly.

"Not normal?"

Anthony didn't respond.

"Does it bother you?"

"No…not really." Anthony fibbed.

"Why asking?"

"No…forget it. Forget I asked."

"We've been like this before Ant…" Ian defended.

" _Well not as so close as this you douche!_ " Anthony yelled inside his head.

" _Not that I don't like it, but you should realize how nerve-wracked I am right now for what you are doing! You still don't know how much I'm in love with you!"_

"We're…we're so strangely close Ian." Anthony reasoned out.

"Is that wrong?" Ian countered.

Anthony didn't respond, apparently clueless how to make Ian realize what he is doing right now makes him damn crazy. Slowly the blue eyed man raised his head, facing Anthony dead straight. Although Ian could not clearly see Anthony's visage, given it's around five in the morning, he tried to focus his gaze on him. Anthony swallowed a spit, not even breathing.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Ian asked. He dropped his head, burying his face on Anthony's chest.

"I don't mind Ant…" Ian buzzed, sliding his right hand again across Anthony's chest, touching gently his ribs. Anthony controlled his flinching again. He doesn't know if Ian's torturing him, not that he hates what Ian is actually doing, but Anthony is scared that he might not be able to contain himself anymore and do something rash.

"You're so warm Ant…"

"I always am." Anthony tried sounding immodest.

"I think I had a bad dream…" Ian recalled. "But it dissipated quickly."

There were seconds of silence.

Finally Ian slowly lifted himself, breaking his droopy hug. Anthony reached for the bedside lamp and gazed at Ian's crouched, drowsy figure. Ian blinked few times, setting his blue eyes toward Anthony who lay motionless.

"Sorry for weighing you down." Ian yawned, rubbing his eyes.

Anthony remained stock-still, peering over his dozy friend.

"I though you want to get up already? Why are you still lying there weirdly staring at me?" Ian pointed out.

Anthony couldn't help but imagine punching Ian's face. He couldn't tell if Ian was indeed tricking or torturing him. The sight of his innocent, boyish face denied such speculation. Anthony sighed and chuckled. He got out of bed, grabbing a pillow by his left hand and when he was near by the door threw it, hitting Ian's face point blank. Anthony trotted outside the bedroom, chortling.

"What's for breakfast?" Ian yelled weakly.

"Some sort of bread and egg?" Anthony replied loudly.

"I think that's fine." Ian said under his breath, crawling out of bed.

Anthony immediately went to the kitchen and grabbed some wheat bread. He pulled out two medium-sized non-stick frying pans and began preheating them. He rummaged the fridge for some brown eggs, olive butter, honey cured ham, parsley, spring onions, sour cream, fresh milk, mayonnaise and gilled mushrooms. Seconds later he saw Ian walking like a zombie.

"Sunny side or scrambled?"

"Scrambled please." Ian obliged.

Anthony seized a bowl and cracked two brown eggs in it. He began whisking the eggs, added some salt and pepper and some minced spring onions and parsley. On a smaller bowl he mixed a dollop of organic mayo, a spoonful of sour cream and a bit of fresh milk. He added the mixture in the beaten eggs and whipped it lightly. Anthony threw a small block of olive butter in one of the pan and fried four slices of honey cured ham. On the other preheated pan he tossed another slice of olive butter and cooked the scrambled eggs.

Ian suddenly appeared at Anthony's side and rubbed his stubbly chin on Anthony's right shoulder, murmuring.

"Every morning I loved seeing you cook for me."

Anthony was thankful that even though Ian was saying this normally, it made him giggle inside. His face felt warm and was sure he looked bright red. Luckily Ian wasn't paying attention and he tried hard containing his emotion. Shortly Ian inched away and searched for the brewer, preparing coffee for Anthony, who smirked silently. Ian grabbed the heater too, and looked for his box of oolong tea.

Anthony began folding Ian's scrambled eggs and added some finishing touch, garnering an undeniably appetizing creamy scrambled parsley egg. He settled it in a plate, dropped another small block of olive butter and chucked some gilled mushrooms to sauté. He flipped the hams and timely took a mug of brewed coffee from Ian. The taste was magical. Likewise Ian lurked behind him minding his tea, oblivious to the fact that his simple coffee was gratifying deep inside the core of someone.

Anthony placed two slices of wheat bread in a toaster and placed another two on a chopping board. While the first two were toasting he carved a square hole in the other two loafs. When the hams were ready, he placed the two slices of wheat bread in the same pan, dropped a small piece of olive butter at the center of the square holes and cracked an egg on each of the hole. He let it sit for a few minutes until the bread got toasted and eggs cooked. When everything was finished Anthony proudly served breakfast. Ian either wanted the enticing parsley scrambled eggs or Anthony's flamboyant stove top toasted sunny side egg breads. The two ate silently.

"You're always so presentable with food." Ian praised.

"See? Presentation makes a huge difference."

Ian shrugged and continued eating.

"You want me to bring my camera or yours?" Ian inquired.

"Mine. It has better focus and portability." Anthony recommended.

"Agreed. Mine's bulky."

"Are all trailers for the games listed in the program?"

"There are obviously some surprises. Who knows?"

"Nice." Ian nodded.

The two finished their breakfast and while Anthony did the dishes Ian took another round of his tea.

"What was the deal back there?" Ian asked vaguely. As ignorant as he was, Anthony replied confusingly.

"What deal?"

"When we're sleeping?"

Anthony closed his eyes momentarily and looked for the right amount of composure to control him. He thought Ian was just innocently cuddling him earlier but interrogating him now is puzzling as unsettling.

"What do you mean what's the deal?"

"You appeared uneasy to me. Did I really make you that sore?"

"It's not that Ian." Anthony muttered almost apologetically.

"But I'm glad you didn't push me aside."

"Why would I do that?"

"Not sure. I'm happy because this terrible dream disappeared instantly and I think it was you."

"I did nothing." Anthony refuted instinctively.

"Yes you did." Ian pressed.

"Last time I check I wasn't busy casting nightmares on people, especially you…well maybe I wanted to."

"No, I'm not saying you caused my bad dreams." Ian clarified, eyes directly boring to Anthony's.

"Then what?"

"Your warmth Anthony…it brightens my mood." Ian continued not minding Anthony's brief streak of folly.

"I'm making you warm and fuzzy?" Anthony joked, almost tantalizing.

Anthony expected a frown from Ian but was responded with a warm smile. He swore that the combination of his crystal blue eyes, glinting with innocent happiness and jolly grin was the handsomest visage he witnessed from him.

" _Could he be? No don't be rash and stupid!_ " Anthony battled inside his head. His heart was palpitating and what's worse was that Ian wasn't breaking his gaze. However, the moment he blushed fiercely that he had to walk away and reasoned out quickly.

"Where are you going?" Ian probed following Anthony with his eyes.

"I have to fix something…" Anthony lied.

"Can we play Halo?" Ian invited.

"When I'm done."

Ian shrugged and continued sipping his tea oblivious to everything that shakes Anthony.

* * *

Clouds were unwelcoming and somnolent. Lingering before an infinite bluish sky, looking so heavenly and unreachable, it hovered like a portentous herald of an otherworldly realm. It marvelously sketches a resolute of auguring timeless days. Drafts were surprisingly gentle. No traces of sharp, unreceptive, macabre sensations were present.

" _Sounds like it's raining…"_ Ian hummed.

His gray-bluish eyes darted towards the overcast atmosphere, searching for any form of strong radiance seeping from any fissure the dozy clouds' may have kept hidden.

Ian didn't particularly like rainy days. But he is always eager to feel propelled to shake off the gloomy feel. And who is to be bothered by this? Even if he thinks it might be premeditated or not, Anthony was denied to object. For Ian, he just has to. Slowly, Anthony thought that Ian might just be joking around, jeering off the wintery, tedious sensation. However he is certain that Ian's strange coldness is the outright suspect. Aside from his occasional to recurrent habit of touching and hugging him, the blue-eyed man often engages in rigorous activities. Anthony liked it though. Shaming themselves with "Just Dance" on Xbox 360 felt ridiculous but entertaining. Failed stunts, indoor kitchen experiments that often turn out as comical fiascoes, non-stop Halo and Smash Brother battles partnered by pepperoni pizzas, tacos, burritos, curly fries, sprinkled donuts and few mugs of hot chocolate, Ian, especially Anthony, eventually loved rainy days.

Behind Ian Anthony treaded, carrying a box of limited edition Super Smash Brothers GameCube controller. He admired the polished and redolent appeal of the controller, recalling how much he used to spend countless hours with Ian playing Smash Brothers Melee on Nintendo GameCube.

"What are you staring at?" Anthony broke Ian's pensive gawking.

Slightly startled, Ian furrowed his brows, sending a nippy glance towards his raven-haired friend.

"Are you trying to convince the heavens to stop lamenting?" Anthony jested.

"How long have you been there?" Ian inquired curiously.

"Just seconds ago..." Anthony lied.

Ian alleged that Anthony's "Just seconds ago" can be 59 seconds long, and he considers that duration as creepy for such a deed.

"Don't even give me that look, I just arrived okay?" He lied again. "Besides let's try these new GameCube controllers already. I've been itching to play Smash Brothers again." Anthony quickly changed subject, squashing whatever was in Ian's mind. He beckoned him towards the gaming room where all video game madness will happen.

"These bitches where like hotshots. People are going crazy for them." Anthony said gruffly, opening the first black Smash Brother edition of GameCube controller. Before he untangled the cord, he excitedly held the controller like he was about to play. With his right thumb he tentatively tapped the familiar bean-shaped X and Y buttons, striking the big circle A button and mashing the B. His left and right index finger playfully beat L and R buttons while his thumbs transferred to nudging in various directions the left analog and right "c" sticks. Anthony repeatedly tested the familiar features of the GameCube controller, getting the nostalgic feel from it.

"Yeaah. This brings back memories…"

"Why can't Nintendo understand the volatility of demand over these things?" Ian asked.

"They might be observing." Anthony replied.

"Observing?"

"Yeah. The first few months are like the experimental periods. If the product hits the _fad_ , then bam! That's where they start supplying another batch."

"Yeah, yeah, marketing stuff and shit." Ian gloated, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Did you get an adapter?" Anthony asked, rummaging around.

"Of course we did. Where were you this time when we bought this?" Ian stated, shooting his hand in front of him where a GameCube to Wii U adapter still in a box was chilling.

"Slipped my mind." Anthony apologized, grabbing the adapter and plugging it to the Wii U.

The two were relentless. Bickering and boasting, the two kept playing for two straight hours. It was until Ian invited for tea that they had their first break.

"Chocolate again or coffee?" Ian offered ardently.

Anthony slump on his back against their dark, wooly sofa, searching inside his head to what's best for a break time drink.

"I think I'll have some tea, what are you getting?"

"Peppermint? I've got the fresh deal."

"Sounds authentic eh?"

"Get the hell out of there and join me." Ian reprimanded Anthony, who slouched like some lazy, homeless street urchin.

"Give me a moment, I'll be after you."

Ian strode towards their kitchen and began rummaging among some small potted plants laid properly just by the counter. He plucked some perfectly young, greenish, fresh peppermint leaves and washed them briefly. Soon he filled the heater with some water and clicked it on. Below the counter he procured two handsome teacups placing them in saucers and grabbing a teaspoon. Soon Anthony emanated from the corner and sat opposite Ian. The blue eyed man catches a glimpse of Anthony, rutting his brows over the sight of his friend preparing something literally and surprisingly fresh stuff.

"Since when did you preferred brand new for tea?" Anthony asked curiously.

"This is not brand new you douche. I've been doing this since time immemorial."

Anthony frowned and pouted his lips supposing Ian was lying to him affront.

"I usually prepare teas from scratch when my stomach feels funny…especially peppermint." Ian recollected.

"Your tummy feels off now?" Anthony interjected inquisitively.

"No, not really, this is just an exception."

"Oh."

"I don't have stomachaches that often which is why you rarely see me prepare unsullied stuff for tea."

Ian bustled towards the left overhead cubbyhole and seized a bottle of honey and grabbed a lemon sitting on a fruit basket. He settled the bottle beside the teacups and snatched a knife. After washing the lemon he used his palm to roll it, pressing a bit to trigger more juice before wedging two perfect round slices. He caught Anthony watching him attentively, apparently grinning.

"What the hell are you smiling at?" Ian asked impatiently.

"Nothing. You just look cute preparing stuff for me."

Ian creased his brows, frowning incredulously.

"I'm pretty sure something inside that head of yours is mocking me." Ian prattled accusingly, pointing the knife briefly towards Anthony.

"Whoa, whoa, no pointing please?"

Ian chucked the peppermint leaves on the teacups and turned around to fetch the heater. Slowly he poured hot water on each cup and allowed it to steep for five minutes. While Anthony was teasing him for such duration by being stupidly silent and gazing at him as if his eyes where the one themselves laughing, Ian walked towards the fridge and acquired a pair of blueberry scones. Strangely, when Anthony saw Ian treading back, he dropped his japing and beamed heartwarmingly. Ian saw this and challenged him.

"Got tired jesting me?" Ian muttered, dropping the slices of lemon on each cup and began opening the bottle of honey. Anthony responded by shaking his head.

"Want some of this?"

Anthony nodded. Ian couldn't surmise how Anthony is really acting and sighed, almost chuckling. When he finished preparing the tea he pushed slowly the one for Anthony and obtained another pair of saucers and fork for the blueberry scones. There was only one word running inside Anthony's mind while he crossed his arms watching and contemplating over Ian's current actions; thoughtfulness. Anthony is so used to doing all things for his friend that it amuses him to watch Ian, on very rare occasions, preparing food or anything for him. It almost felt heartbreaking. Every detail was endearing to Anthony's content. How Ian mixes the tea and considerately ask Anthony "Do you want this?". He even notices him quickly grabbing a morsel of the scone on Anthony's just to make it look pleasing and clean. He even grabbed a napkin to wipe some very small spill around the teacup's brim and saucer.

"You don't gulp it like some drunken fish!" Ian scolded Anthony.

"W-what?" Anthony said, as if broken from a trance.

"You have to sip it slowly. Let the concoction sit in your palate. Relish the flavor it brings to your taste buds."

"What the heck is that?"

"Proper way of drinking tea?" Ian lectured.

Anthony did what his friend instructed and was surprised by the pleasantness of Ian's homemade peppermint tea.

"Wow. I never thought it tastes that good. The kick of lemon was perfect. It didn't overpower the peppermint and the honey was just enough to bring in some sweetness. You steeped the tea pretty well too." Anthony proudly commended Ian's work. After living all his life with his subject, Anthony found some exceptional instances that Ian was really good at.

"Try it with the scone." Ian suggested merrily, motioning his eyes toward the unsweetened pastry. Anthony scraped a piece of the dessert with the fork and chewed mildly. He sipped another round of the peppermint tea and nodded in approval.

"Not bad."

"I think we should do this more often, especially when we're so loaded with those greasy stuff." Ian gleefully announced, gesturing his head over the game room where their ordered pepperoni pizza, Mexican foods and sweets waited.

And then he tried.

"Ian haven't you notice anything about me?"

"I notice a lot. You want me to enumerate them?"

Anthony knew that Ian will take the route of jesting and making of fun of him but he cut him through immediately.

"No. It's something specific and special. You don't know anything about it?" Anthony tried to confirm.

"I'm not exactly sure what you're trying to tell me…" Ian incomprehensibly questioned.

"The secret of my heart…"

"The what?" Ian tittered but suddenly interrupted by a loud explosion, almost mute in such quick flash of time. Suddenly Ian felt enveloped in a distorted swish of time. The space felt blurry and indescribable. His feelings were utter seconds of blank void and instantly a creeping tinge of shock and fear dominated him. His eyes reflected a horrifying sight of their house split into two, torn miserably by some unseen force, scraping clumsily from floor to roof, vertically, precisely and brutally. The earsplitting crash and bang seemed to not even register inside his head. A split second silence suddenly became a mess of chaos. Anthony clutched him at his left, the two were hovering outside their house, almost a feet above their grassy backyard. Ian realized this and panicked for a second, clumsily getting a grip over his friend.

"You're fine, just relax, and hold on to me." Anthony reassured him.

As dust of rubbles dissipated Anthony found their assailants glaring at them unflinchingly. A boy and a girl, gawking impassively at them, but their eyes were fiery and sinister of condensed vengeance.

To both of Anthony and Ian's astonishment the girl muttered.

"This will be strange but…we crossed paths again…"

A flick of memory rushed inside Anthony. It preoccupied his mind momentarily before a storm was about to be unleashed.


	9. Chapter 9 - Behind Everything Else

**Sneaked some time to edit some errors. An opportunity for me to scribble some brief summary. Well another character emanated. The inspiration for this one is Booker Dewitt of Bioshock Infinite and I just LOVE this game. It is my most favorite FPS ever before the original Bioshock or any other FPS I played. By the next chapter you'll learn a lot about this man and his similarity to the currently retired Alfred Godswick Streids and why he is currently one of the ultimate test to Anthony's untested powers. I'll improve not only this chapter but the rest. I kept on reading them to see if something can still be polished further. Thank you for your patience and happy reading!**

 **CHAPTER 9: BEHIND EVERYTHING ELSE**

There were a lot of things storming inside Anthony's mind. Ian felt the same dilemma. As much as they want to recall their past, they were too preoccupied by their daring entrance. While Anthony was engrossed on how to defend or retaliate, Ian was swathed by inevitable trepidation. For a long time he felt fear coursing on every inch of his soul. Anthony is a testimony of this. Anthony never witnessed Ian flinch a bit when watching horror films instead saw him discuss the sickest recesses of human mind after watching David Fincher's Zodiac.

"Ant…who are they?" Ian said, trying to control his mumbles but obviously failed. His blue eyes almost turned gray. Filled with terror, he tried to collect all the courage to maintain at least a steady gaze.

Anthony decided not to dwell into digging the past. Probably what he sensed might be important but one thing was clear in front of him; these guys are here to kill Ian. He's just the frontline. Any slight mistake is impermissible. One tiny crack of opportunity for them would be the end of everything for him. Anthony was bothered by one thing. How? How on earth did they breach Silent Harrow? Whilst this question is just the base of his current problem, he was bewildered by how their attackers penetrated the safest place he and Ian had resided for almost their entire life. How did they infiltrate his Detect zone? Everything felt normal and fluid. Sure he was having a fun time savoring Ian's peppermint tea a while ago, but he didn't fail scanning his surroundings. Did they blend with people nearby? Such thought leaves Anthony impressed and a bit disappointed.

" _This is strange..."_ Anthony surmised.

"Don't overthink Anthony." Cross warned, breaking the stream of thoughts raiding Anthony's head.

Anthony and Ian slowly descended, their feet touching few blades of grass. A while ago Anthony and Ian just had breakfast, played video games like there's no tomorrow, sipped a generous cup of peppermint tea and suddenly destruction intruded, needing no invitation.

"Your reflex amazes me though. You were as what they said a standard of legend." Cross praised him.

"These things doesn't matter anyway right? Ian's safety is your top priority." Cross tried berating him, sending an unreadable gaze, which for Anthony meant instant death.

"Why?" Anthony finally spoke. His voice was incredibly solid and daunting. It's been awhile since Ian heard his friend using such tone. It always amazes him time and again. Ian's fear somewhat subsided but was replaced by sadness. The mere sight of their home, ruined by unknown prowlers broke his heart. They had fun building it themselves in the past with the help of few people. Ian and Anthony had the title jointly named to both of them. Now, what reflected in his eyes was barely recognizable. Anthony noticed Ian's melancholy and had to deal quickly a battle between ravishing emotions and impassiveness. Being cold and focused is a key to uncompromised combat effectivity but emotions are not to be discounted. Anthony, for a long time had proven how to cross between those.

"Correct question." Cross replied coolly. Of all the things Anthony could ask them, his single query hit the spot.

"But telling won't change anything." Cross muttered, building the tension in the air.

"Close your…"

Before Anthony could finish Azlirel appeared magically behind both of them. He carried what appeared to be an exaggeratedly huge sword. It was covered in bandages. Amazingly, Azlirel is capable of wielding it as if it was a part of his body. As he was about to deliver a downward blow Anthony vanished in thin sight. He could almost feel Ian losing his grip because of the swift pacing and had to support him instead. A loud bang covered the place. Dust and rubble flew everywhere, obscuring the scene with dusty shade of haze. Anthony landed few meters away from his original position. He was now cradling Ian who now clutched him tightly, burying his face on his neck, unable to react or squeal.

"Hold on to me. I promise…" Anthony reassured and another earth-shaking blast shook their estate. Boulders flung everywhere as dust and dirt chaotically spread like fireworks.

" _Damn, their fast!_ " Anthony judged.

" _It's difficult to counter. I need to secure Ian first._ "' Anthony continued reviewing the situation he's in. Azlirel and Cross were relentless, giving him no time to let his feet touch the ground for more than a second. As much as Ian wanted to see what's going on, he instinctively closed his eyes. Each phase of Anthony's inhuman speed was a roller coaster ride for him. Anthony's lightning moves was too much a shock that he can't even sneak a glance of his surroundings. As subsequent deafening explosions and earthshattering blows continued, Ian can do nothing but grapple firmly unto Anthony and prayed that everything will be over.

Indisputably, Anthony was on a defensive mode. He can't retaliate. A good leeway seems bleak at the moment. The siblings were ruthless, not letting any second to pass, targeting and unleashing potent blows, causing further devastation to Ian and Anthony's once peaceful home. Anthony even wondered why there's no help coming. He only suspected a calculated, politically enforced plan has been on the move. Keeping Silent Harrow's men at bay was an impressive feat he can hardly imagine. All lesser sentinels are at least on standard level of Hipstein's security level that any attempt to infiltrate could even be judged as a real threat.

As Anthony factually lived on blinding speed of dashes to evade death he noticed something odd about Ian. He felt something wet dribbling down his neck. To his shock he noticed Ian's nose bleeding. Ian may have noticed it but couldn't react because of the situation he's in. Anthony realized then that the powerful speed he was using caused too much strain on Ian's body. He simply can't keep up. It was given that his fragile body could never withstand any inhuman force he performs. He reminded himself that the most treasured soul in the world for Michael is none other than the extremely vulnerable human bodies of the heirs.

Out of nowhere Azlirel and Cross simultaneously popped, juxtaposed to Anthony's position, sandwiching him with Azlirel's horizontal sword slash and Cross' downward blow of sinisterly glowing fist. The siblings were conveniently opportunist, using the second delay that Anthony was pondering over Ian's bleeding state and sneaked an attack. It was then at this moment that Anthony's mind drifted and paused, engulfing his surroundings with grayish light speed, almost depicting an unfinished painting of hidden masterpiece, slowly forming an image. Flashing in indeterminable flow of time, Anthony held Ian tightly, their figures suspended on the ground. He held himself tautly, firmly planting his feet on the grassless soil. There, his body impulsively released a great circular force of grazing wind that spread and created explosion around him. Cross and Azlirel's respective attack met the vigorous wave of scraping wind. Anthony's circular wind release, though powerful, was not lethal. The magnitude was enough to neutralize their attacks and propel them in great distance. The two tried fighting off the dynamic velocity of their flight. Instantly Anthony suspended Ian in midair by some unseen force. Anthony _hallucinated_ behind Azlirel, surreptitiously delivering a powerful kick. Immediately Anthony reappeared opposite his current position, expecting Azlirel to hurl towards him for about half a kilometer. Hovering in great speed, Anthony released a blade of wind, smashing Azlirel's tossed figure back to where he originally flew from Anthony's first impulse of attack. Anthony _hallucinated_ again, this time aiming for Cross, who seemed to have recovered already. Perfectly, when Cross' foot tapped the ground to gain some leverage and rebound, Anthony timely nipped behind her. With his right fist covered in whirling force, Anthony delivered an effective punch accompanied by a twisting squall of airstream. Cross managed to block instinctively but was pushed by the utter force of Anthony's attack.

Anthony _hallucinated_ underneath where Ian was floating. He placed his palm on the ground, motioning it clockwise and created a gust of wind which served as a barrier. Anthony reemerged, cradling Ian. Slowly he crouched and maintained Ian's delicate body held and wrapped gently around his arms. Everything, even to Anthony's amazement happened in three seconds. Anthony managed to slip a counterattack, keep Ian briefly away from harm and put his enemies at bay, all the same time. Everything was crystal clear. Anthony felt like a dragon was awoken inside him. He felt the rush of power flowing through him. _But there were limits._

" _That should buy me some time._ " Anthony felt relieved.

"Ian. Look at me..." Anthony beseeched, shaking his friend mildly. Ian slowly opened his crystal blue eyes and bore straight towards Anthony's russet brown ones. Anthony wiped the blood off of Ian's nose. The other man noticed this and felt alarmed.

"Hey, hey. It's alright. Don't be scared." Anthony thoughtfully comforted him.

"Is…is this yours?!" Ian freaked out.

"N-no, no, it's…yours, but calm down okay?" Anthony tried to shake his apprehension off, wiping his nose gently with the hem of his sleeve while supporting the back of his head with his left hand.

"W-why am I bleeding?" Ian asked nonetheless.

"Long story…anyway…"

"W-where are we? What happened?" Ian muttered, moving his head around, astounded by the presence of spiraling tide of whirlwind. It took a while for his surroundings to register inside his head. When Ian realized he and Anthony were inside it he felt agitated and clutched Anthony like a terrified child.

"Don't worry. I made this. It should give me time to plan. Listen dude…" Anthony explained and implored.

"Are we inside a…" Ian asked, amazed by the situation.

"Yes we are…well."

"You're kidding me?!"

"No."

Anthony saw Ian's eyes sparkled with amazement, almost childlike. Somehow he felt relieved that Ian's fear suddenly dispersed, as if the previous encounter were just distant memories. He smiled feebly, shaking his head and almost chuckled. But then he went serious, calling Ian's attention and boring him the eyes that showed deep concern.

"W-wait, where the hell are those…" Ian asked but was interrupted immediately by his friend.

"It doesn't matter I need you to trust me on something okay?" Anthony discoursed calmly. Ian didn't say a word, eyes wide open, nodding in return. There's no one in the world that he could trust right now but Anthony.

"I need to…do _it_." Anthony said resolutely.

It took no minute for Ian to register what Anthony suggested and was horrified. Seconds later Anthony saw Ian freaking out, feverish and pleading.

"Don't do this Ant." Ian appealed, almost sobbing. "Don't leave me _there_."

"Look, it's not that you're going to stay there forever. These guys are a pain in the ass. There's something strange as well. I need to ensure your life, you hear me?"

Hearing the word _life_ even bothered him more.

"I…I hate that place?" Ian raged silently, controlling his emotions was harder than he thought.

"Neither do I want you there but we have no time…" Anthony requested, grabbing his friend in both shoulders, forcing him to face him.

"You should let me do my duty." Anthony only said the words and earnestly gazed straight, confrontationally at Ian's beautiful blue eyes.

"Why are you so worried? You think I'll die easily from these two mongers?" Anthony japed, trying to lift Ian's spirit, soliciting his permission to use _it._

Ian contemplated for few seconds, gaping below, trying not to meet Anthony's eyes. Finally Ian nodded and Anthony smiled in return.

"I'll be back, I promise." Anthony muttered, holding softly Ian's neck.

Using his right thumb fingernail, Anthony scraped his index finger's underside, opening a wound. With his right thumb, he spread the seeping blood, massaging it with his thumb, index and middle finger. Anthony pointed his right index and middle finger towards Ian's forehead and performed an inaudible mental chant. Anthony saw tears rolling down as Ian closed his eyes. He thought that Ian hated _that_ place very much. But one thought swam; he's worried about him. Judging from the caliber of his opponents' strength and the undecipherable technique they used to infiltrate his Detect zone Anthony may potentially die from them. Few days ago he accepted his feelings for Ian, although he hasn't revealed it yet.

" _Is it now the time?_ "

Anthony beamed instead, almost weakly, suppressing his own sadness and fears. He wanted to wipe Ian's tears, hug him dearly, and kiss him if he must. But shaking off his fears and anxieties will do nothing for now. Ensuring his safety is his utmost priority.

Gradually Ian felt sleepy. He tried to fight off the drowsiness, trying to catch a glimpse of his friend's handsome but slightly lonely face blocked slightly by his right hand. Ian tried to stay awake, wanting to stay alert and wary. He tried to reach for Anthony's hand to illuminate his entire face. He wanted to see Anthony fighting these bastards. It was the least he could do for a friend who would offer his life to protect him. But he slowly succumbed to slumber, going to a world where silence and emptiness is the least he could wish for. Before parting from the chaotic world he's in, Ian held on to Anthony's promise of coming back and claiming victory. When it may be, he doesn't know. He wanted to know but could only wait.

Slowly Ian lingered in midair, unconscious and serene. A bluish spherical energy slowly encased his whole body, creating an impenetrable globular shield. Various triangular and circular signs with unfamiliar writings appeared and disappeared for every second. Anthony watched as his friend was sheathed in a protective sphere of energy. The barrier Anthony just created is an ancient magic that is linked to his strong, spiritual cohesion. Only at the time were his purest and most devoted urge to protect will the spell activate. Its powerful characteristic even extends to the point of death. If a Sentinel dies preserving _it_ , a second _contract_ would trigger, leaving his/her subject at the care of his final death will, making his resolve to protect even more powerful and undying. But it is said that when the second contract activates there were hefty exchange. Something all Sentinels accepted nonetheless.

"It's time for the second phase brother…" Cross requested Azlirel's attention. Judging from her signal, the two siblings seem to be opting for a more weapon-based tactic.

Cross posed a threatening hand gesture, as if she was hauling a massive core of energy. Azlirel kneeled behind her, in his own stance as if sending forth support to his sister as evidenced by circular pentacles with ancient signs and symbols manifesting. Soon Cross' palm created a reddish yellow matter of energy, gradually growing tremendous and violent. It pulsated with menacing concentration of lightning and flame energy that radiated dangerously, getting intense with every second passing. More dust like particles gathered towards the center, contributing huge amounts of dangerous matter.

" _More…we need more…_ " Cross muttered under her breath.

Few seconds and Cross finally released the energy, firing a destructive swirling projectile of flaming red and blinding yellow lightning energy. Compressed in a powerfully concentrated laser like beam, it rushed and advanced forward with incredible speed. All things before it where torn asunder, pulverizing anything in front of its path. As Anthony's whirling barrier remained unruffled, the sibling's projectile hit hard, hissing and rambling upon collision. The friction was too powerful until Anthony's wind barricade gave up, dissipating, and evaporating completely until an unseen shield repelled the force, warding it off slowly before it can even get a few meters near Ian's globular shield. The yellowish, lightning effects spread violently, piercing the ground clumsily, spreading disarray and destruction everywhere.

"He blocked it." Azlirel said blankly, even with his eyes closed he can discern the situation.

Cross slowly recognized Anthony's composed figure. His hand was still raised forward from blocking their attack. Traceless with emotion, Anthony lowered his hand sending firm, unwavering gaze towards the siblings. Cross was mildly surprised as a bluish spherical matter floated behind Anthony. She saw clearly Ian inside it, unconscious, safe and sound.

"How troublesome…" Cross sighed.

" _Don't you think it's too early to use that Anthony?_ " Cross mentally asked her target.

Anthony didn't take the offensive move. He watched as Azlirel ran forward, tossing his still bandaged great sword perfectly straight towards Anthony. The raven-haired lad flicked his thumb, sending an unseen force to deflect the sword effortlessly. Suddenly Azlirel disappeared, popping to where the sword was tossed upward. He managed to get a grip of the handle, switched his groove, reassume his phase and hauled the force to shoot downward, holding his great sword in two hand to deliver a killing thrust. Anthony took a simple foot length step to dodge the attack. Quickly Cross sniped behind him, hammering an equally large sword lethally towards Anthony. A loud boom enveloped the place.

The siblings felt Anthony's presence, airborne momentarily, impassively watching them. Cross sensed a surge of power from him. Anthony looped his right hand and the two found themselves dodging unseen blades of winds serrating the ground in continuous successions. They split ways while Anthony continued sending deadly gales of wind, crisscrossing their safety paths. Gushing blasts drowned the place and Anthony caught sight of Azlirel hurling himself towards him, his great sword resonated with bluish hue of aura. Anthony perfectly dodged Azlirel's killing thrust and instantly countered by flashing his hand upward, sending vigorous stream of air towards his target. Azlirel, with his lightning speed reaction dissolved, instantly reappearing at Anthony's left, few feet away, motioning a diagonal slice of his great sword which retained its azure, glowing feat.

" _Their reflexes improved drastically…"_ Anthony commented, consequently wondering where Cross would sneak her next move.

Anthony evaded slightly Azlirel's great sword which almost scraped his hair. He used his left hand to smoothly pummel Azlirel's huge sword, deflecting it downward. Whilst Anthony tried to refract Azlirel's blow with considerable force, he knew that the sudden change of his opponent's reflex prompted him to adjust his evasive and countering measures. Rolling in midair, he used the unlikely situation and snatched an opening to connect a powerful blade of wind, hammering down Azlirel who timely used his sword to shield himself. Pinned down, Azlirel saw Anthony hurling towards him with a single kick. He managed to dodge, catching a glimpse of the crater Anthony's mighty stomp has created.

Out of nowhere Cross magically reemerge behind Anthony, brandishing her equally large sword, except that it wasn't covered in bandage like Azlirel's. Her sword look clumsily serrated but glowed menacingly. The central portion of the blade radiated with ancient signs and symbol running from hilt to bottom. The opposite edge of the blade seemed fractured, with each length of fissures glowing with reddish light, glimmering ominously as if hell was about to break loose. Anthony blocked her slash, using his bare hands, imposingly enhanced by some invisible energy, however Cross saw Anthony's aggrieved expression. Cross smirked and immediately, as if everything took in split seconds that Azlirel resurfaced behind and above Anthony. He used his two hands to thrust his sword which now look almost identical to Cross' red ones. It flickered with silvery dust of energy accompanied by cerulean versions of smooth mist. Another loud booming sound crashed, covering the scene in speckles of smoke and dusts.

As the fog of war settled, Cross and Azlirel saw Anthony's hovering few meters behind them. Speechless, the two paused in unison, contemplating their next move while pondering over the fact that Anthony's agility and reflexes were completely insane, let alone his power for successfully blocking their consecutive attacks.

"Did breaking laws and traditions have to be the final option?" Anthony asked curiously.

"The methods we succumbed to are not any of your concern is it?" Cross debated.

"Is it not?" Anthony countered.

Cross smiled. Anthony was not as dim-witted as she might think. The past was not so distant to bury the things they have shared briefly. Cross' early introduction, although slightly altered, bore deeply to Anthony. Ian knew it too. Cross also learned that Anthony resolved into not persuading her and Azlirel. He respected the conviction they carried. But she knows that a tiny bit of Anthony's principle would still try to convince them and she was correct.

"Retribution leads you nowhere." Anthony said.

"Ironic isn't it?" Cross mocked.

"All we do is hurt. Whatever the conclusion, there is always pain. It never fades."

"Why keep doing it?"

"You will never understand."

"So it comes to this?"

"Yes…to this…behind everything else."

Without warning Cross and Azlirel instantaneously disappear in sight. Anthony remained immobile as his both hands quickly gathered swirling light green energy of wind. Cross and Azlirel spiraled in blinding speed, wielding their great swords in unanimity, confident of their swiftness and precision whilst knowing Anthony wouldn't even bother to dodge instead used his hands to block their attack. Force and friction triggered grazing collision of power to power. Cross menacingly red blade crackled with blazing aura while Azlirel's effervesced with bluish silver of mist and sparkling dust wildly seeping out of his great sword. Anthony, both hands equipped only with light green wind energy, successfully parried their blow. Few seconds passed, Anthony managed to neutralize the undeniable force of his assailant's unified attack. Prepping for counter, Anthony _hallucinated_ once more, cheating time's flow and performed an intricate hand gestures towards his opponents' respective swords while doing a full 360 degrees rotation. Before time snaps back, Anthony formed a fist and rammed them together, making a conclusion to his spell. Both Cross and Azlirel's sword broke into pieces while the two were forcibly thrown in opposite direction. Hurling and slumping on the ground. Anthony remained stationary, observing the scene.

Few seconds later Cross and Azlirel rose slowly. Battered, they didn't mind the damage they took.

"You had the chance why aim for our weapons?" Cross asked inquisitively. Anthony didn't answer. Cross closed her eyes and sighed.

Anthony's eyes narrowed as his two adversaries vanished in sight and reappeared in front of Anthony, few meters away. He watch as his two assailants raised their hands, horizontally facing side by side, each's palms facing the other. While their opposite hands positioned obliquely, their opposing palms created a lightning matter, crackling and sparkling in continuity until an orb of flashing, yellowish light emanated. Their diagonal hands created as well their respective form of compressed energy. At Cross', a reddish, orbicular, flaring heat formed. It continued to gather yellowish particles of flame energy, condensing the massively collected dust of fire material into a glaring ore. On Azlirel's right palm formed a bluish, icy orb of energy. Swirling mass of misty air continuously sucked at its center, forming almost a vacuum of frozen, billowing cold winds and freezing particles until a glowing bluish white ball pulsated threateningly.

Anthony remained motionless, his face traceless of any emotion, until he muttered finally.

"So it comes to this…"

Cross and Azlirel dashed forward but magically teleported behind Anthony, completely altering their motion in a new, opposite direction. They pushed in unison the lightning ball they've created towards their target. Surprised by their nippy move and with only a quarter of fraction to defend himself Anthony raised his hands, instinctively parrying the lightning orb. Simultaneously, spinning gales of wind twirled around his arms and hands, forming a ball of wind energy, attempting to repel the crackling ball of energy the siblings threw at him. Seconds of fizzing and scuffing blast of electric cords and tidal breeze furiously battled between them. To Anthony's astonishment again, he noticed as the two vanished in sight, leaving him busy defending the ball of lightning the two threw. To his horror they popped in both sides of the spherical shield where Ian was in and furiously crashed through, cramming it with their respective fire and ice orb. Powerful wave of force enveloped the scene as each of the sibling's condensed projectile desperately tried to destroy the globular barrier.

Anthony, unable to react because of the lightning ball watched as Cross and Azlirel smashed their powerful attack to Ian's barrier.

" _Shit!_ " Anthony cursed inside his mind.

Anthony gained leverage, recovering from the force. Instantly he split the spun of wind, mixing the lightning ball and created a blend of electric and whirling squall matter that churned powerfully on each of his fist. Anthony noticed the strange quality of the sibling's lightning attack. It was like a sticky matter, infectious and annoying, not leaving its target. Abandoning the side note, he noticed as the siblings' synchronized move continued creating thunderous, earsplitting clash against Ian's spherical shield. Cross' flame orb pushed hardly, each particle of dust violently dissipated into waves of flare material while Azlirel's ice ball created an onward vortex, pressing more pressure and created a clumsy expulsion of sharp icicles. Anthony's combination of wind and lightning fist anomalously created piercing strings of yellow spears, slicing the ground around him unpredictably. He took an adjustment, trying to control the strange matter. Few seconds later he succeeded in converting the lightning energy in his favor. Anthony quickly hurled the energy towards its targets, releasing a torpedo-like spear of combined lightning and wind property.

Too late, Cross and Azlirel failed to avoid Anthony's counterattack but managed to block it slightly. The force was however too powerful and their late reaction became almost useless to neutralize the combined trick Anthony placed in his attack. Instantly the siblings where thrown away, almost like bullets fired, crashing miserably on the ground, dragged by the utter force of Anthony's counter-offensive.

Silence filled the place with the gradually dropping humming of Ian's spherical shield audible.

As the dust cleared, Cross and Azlirel's almost lifeless body lay on the ground.

" _So this is what a Sentinel's might feel like."_ Cross trailed inside her mind, she almost chuckled. Ignoring the pain of Anthony's clean attack, her mind drifted towards her little brother.

" _Can you feel it Azlirel? Its sound annoying that vengeance is not enough to overcome these monsters._ "

Azlirel lay immobile on the ground, opposite and far away from his sister. He was smiling. Both of the siblings' countenance was nowhere defeat but elated realization. Anthony knew that they would still persist. Anthony pondered over what happened lately. The shift of their direction was strange. Did they manipulate time and space like _Hallucinate_? Something like what they did recently shouldn't even bypass his guard. What if Ian wasn't even inside that spherical shield? Anthony brushed the tinge of worry and faced his opponents slowly rising, recovering from his successful counterattack.

Not far away Anthony sensed something. An aura of a man.

" _Another one?"_ Anthony whispered.

Anthony can feel him but he was devoid of any human attribute. It was as if he was sensing a non-living thing in motion. Anthony knew that this man was advancing towards his location but his speed was strange. Not in a hurry the man's pacing was _timed_. Slowly, Cross and Azlirel held their stance. Anthony didn't face them but could tell the painted smirk in their faces. Unexpectedly the two vanished but didn't appear anywhere near Anthony for another attack. Few meters in front of Anthony the two stood in front of a man who just arrived. His hair was ashen gray, swaying handsomely by the tides of winds the recent battle caused, it felt hollow and foreboding. Aucelus face greeted Anthony unemotionally. His crystal blue eyes pierced oddly through Anthony's resolute brown ones. Anthony felt weird because it was as if Ian was staring at him instead. The man's visage was calm and reassuring.

"Can we still carry on?" Aucelus solicited.

"Yes." Cross and Azlirel said in unison.

Anthony noticed as the siblings brought out, at each of their hand an outlandish piece of blades. Cross held a coal black dagger that looked like an awkwardly serrated stiletto with intricate gold fork-like hilt outlining a dark metallic gem encrusting. Azlirel on the other hand gripped an almost exact replica, but with the obvious shade of its features accentuating the difference; cloudy white, sharp blade and silver hilt with ornate blue gemstones. He finally noticed as well that the man who just arrived carried what seemed to be a casket wrapped in bizarre looking bandages that were marked with ancient signs and insignias. Anthony for a while recognized some of the crests and tried hard to dig inside his mind where he might saw these. Aucelus lay the casket in front of him and brought out an ancient tome. It looked majestically primeval, almost of the early Irish Sphere origins as he spotted some familiar designs. It was evidently locked by some complex latch system. Anthony obviously sensed danger and intuitively goes offensive, disappearing instantly, but to his surprise Aucelus did the same and met him midway. The two clashed, halting in midair with their arms forced against each other.

"Not this time Anthony…" Aucelus said impassively.

" _What in the world?"_ Anthony trailed inside his head, surprised by the effective response of Aucelus to Anthony's impulse. Parrying his attack, Aucelus created in split second a powerful wave of lightning energy that pushed Anthony hard away from him. Anthony on the other hand tried to neutralize the attack by calling out gales of wind to negate the force, splitting the thick cord of lightning energy in half.

"This should keep you busy Ant…" Aucelus muttered. Before Anthony knew it a tiny, sparkling ball of energy floated in front of him and exploded violently in quick successions. It erupted with booming explosions with undeniable powerful and blinding flashes of light. Anthony was kept at bay, momentarily disoriented by the successive spells of Aucelus. He summoned pillars of wind to counter each explosion effectively. To his surprise however the explosions seemed to be unrelenting.

" _He's keeping me distant, what is he planning?_ " Anthony thought anxisouly.

Aucelus instantly got back to where he was originally. Without further ado, he flicked open the book and let it hover for a few seconds, its pages rippling. He sent forth a longing stare at his siblings and smiled determinedly. Cross and Azlirel nodded in return and faced away from him. They held the daggers in front of them, raised their hands and in unison stabbed themselves straight to their heart. Blood painted a crimson patch at each of the sibling's chest as the life out of their eyes slowly faded, dissolving into unknown madness. Bluish and red matter seeped out of Cross and Azlirel's bodies as their dead bodies knelt instead of slumping down. The miasma continued oozing out and swirled towards the hovering book Aucelus once held. Few seconds later Aucelus held the book's circular aura and some few ring like energy spun around it. The casket in front of him shook and all signs and insignia glowed sinisterly.

Anthony recovered from Aucelus' attack and noticed the situation. Astounded he observed as Aucelus casted some dark sorcery where Cross and Azlirel's life appeared to be an offering.

" _Is he?_ " Anthony wondered.

Instinctively, Anthony lifted his right hand, motioning his index and middle finger together. Suddenly a peaceful swirling wind formed around it, Anthony placed his right hand in front of him as if targeting the casket and the book in front of Aucelus. A vortex animated between the tome and the coffer, it gradually swirled, gaining power and huge momentum. Aucelus noticed this but remained unperturbed. Anthony creased his brows as he felt the strange pressure contradicting his spell. The weight of the opposing force continued, getting heavier at each seconds passing. Anthony held his left hand, forming a cross gesture of his arms. He seemed to hesitate, apparently finding it hard to release the attack due to the evident density of an unknown force contrasting his move. Finally, Anthony was able grip the right timing and releases a compressed energy between Aucelus and the artifacts. It lacerated everything around it. Loud explosions engulfed the place, covering everything in dust and smoke. Piles of dirt and rubble rain like war was upon the world. Anthony watched as the smoke slowly dissipated revealing the situation his enemies are in.

" _I was too late..._ " Anthony regretted.

"Try to handle this Anthony." Aucelus dared him firmly.

To Anthony's horror a man stood in front of Aucelus and behind the lifeless, kneeling positions of Cross and Azlirel. His brown hair was finely brushed up. His facial features showed a battered visage but handsome with solid experience and fortitude. His facial hair was shaven just enough to heighten the manly glow of his expression. Anthony could outline the man's fine features. His arms were corded with muscles and sketched with some scars from battles. He was clad in a 1940's suit which, even though looked eccentric and outdated, appeared cool and pleasing. The way he wore it appeared intimidating. Anthony's brown eyes met the man's green ones.

"It had been a while… but breathing again is a dream I longed for." The man's gravelly voice reverberated as Anthony stood frozen at the presence of Nathall Sage Clementia, the legendary non-blood related Sentinel of the late 7th successor, Claire Austforth Brundshire Hipstein.


	10. Chapter 10 - Found Your Way

**Another long hiatus, I feel like Togashi Yoshihiro's situation got me in a way, just kiddin'. There's no way I'd be like him, haha! But I'm so happy that Hunter X Hunter is on the move again! Anyway, I'll skip the excuses. I really am sorry. This battlefield feels like I had to end it already. The characters themselves had swift, notorious reputation and it just fits the bill for this moment. I already had the chapter next to this but I'm still polishing it. At the last moment I inserted a new character due to the rearrangement I did in Chapter 6 that compels me to write the current story line the way they are recently. Pleasant reading. ;)**

 **CHAPTER 10: FOUND YOUR WAY**

Enigmatic, brute, cunning, fierce and unforgiving; any combination of these traits Anthony's foes had never overawed him. Though all of them had been for "training" only, they meant life and death anyway. It sounds contestable that the experience he acquired is limited but the amount of strength he attained was remarkable. Each time he fights the principle of "one in a million chance" tags in. In every battle, he emulates the picture that Ian's life is always on the line, that one piece of blunder will Ian's life be the price. Anthony practically lived on that principle everyday…always.

Regardless if his experiences are purely from drills, most of his enemies' mere presence radiated intimidation or outright fear. But Anthony is a Sentinel, and a Sentinel is trained to stand his ground no matter what's in front of him. A Sentinel is heedless of pressure and disinclination. Regardless of the opponent's caliber, even if it was a god, a Sentinel never retreats. Power was nothing if courage is brittle. An impeccable synergy between is what makes a true Sentinel worthy to stand beside an heir.

This moment however, he wanted to cast his fears away, but that Nathall's presence penetrated his primary foothold. Probably he was just confused. The unexpected appearance of a man who was technically his brethren created apprehension inside him.

"Hmm…" Nathall hummed. Anthony narrowed his eyes, keeping his guard at the fullest. It was obvious that Aucelus was up to something. He didn't just bring back a mythical man for any reason. Whatever dark magic he used, Anthony could never imagine that of all that he can potentially face, Aucelus chose a student of Michael. Nathall historically had semblance with someone—Alfred. _Alfred_. His name resonated. _"Where is he anyway?"_ Anthony wondered.

Nathall was legendary for his sheer power and unwavering courage. None, even Anthony, as of to date, as per Michael's judgment, could surpass Nathall's extraordinary prowess, insuperable strength and unquestionable valiance. His past was a legend to be told. What made Nathall's history fabled was his transcendental link to Hipstein's deepest roots, something that had great bearing to Michael's becoming.

" _So this is his trump card?"_

Gradually gaining composure Anthony continued surveying Nathall while seeing Aucelus in a meditative state. Silver strings of light slowly forced their way towards Aucelus' floating body. _He was preparing for something_. Aucelus might still have something under his sleeves. Nathall was probably just a diversion. _"An extremely dangerous diversion"_ Anthony thought.

"Is that…Zon Zala?" Nathall asked blankly. Anthony didn't answer. Although he didn't fully grasped what Aucelus did to this man, he was sure of one thing though; that Nathall's existence was an answer to him. Anthony felt a tinge of sadness as Nathall might not have been brainwashed but his instincts were completely modified. It felt excruciating for someone to do what he wouldn't while being fully aware of it. Whatever contract Aucelus made, the cost of his siblings' life was the price and Anthony has to face disrespect.

"It had come to a dire situation that you needed to activate that?" Nathall continued asking, unaware of Anthony's obvious caginess.

"You know…I didn't have the chance to use _it_ when Claire was still alive. Well…we haven't been in a situation that requires to do so." Nathall smiled.

" _What is he?"_ Anthony asked mentally.

"What is your name?" Nathall inquired.

"Anthony." Anthony replied point blank.

"What generation?" Nathall shifted his green eyes from Ian's floating sphere barrier to Anthony's immobile figure.

Anthony didn't answer while Nathall beamed again.

Sighing, Nathall continued building the unpredictable tension in the air "This is really annoying…I was sure I died long ago, but breathing again was a dream I longed for…I don't know if I'm loving or hating this." Nathall inspected his hands, turning them up and down, clutching his fist close and opening it, relishing the _feel_. He leered straight in the sky, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

"I guess I have to finish this _business_ then…" Nathall scratched his head, grinning.

Even though Anthony could tell the strangeness in the man's expressions he failed to predict what happened next. As if the distance was magically shortened, Nathall darted with impressive speed towards the spherical shield Ian was in. Anthony, aside from catching up from Nathall's simplistic nature of stalling, although he was at full guard, felt an incalculable surge of power coursing from Nathall. Anthony mustered all the strength he judged enough to parry the man's attack. What he met was nothing in the world he experienced for a long time.

Nathall's jab was quick, decisive and undeniably destructive. Anthony knows that the Zon Zala has impenetrable levels of defense but he can't imagine how it would survive countering Nathall's powerful strikes, especially if they are instantaneous. Anthony regained his levelheadedness and although shaken by his enemy's simple test run managed to pull a counter. Anthony surreptitiously created a quick, unseen gale of wind that seemed to create a cylindrical shape to it, slicing the ground around him. Missing its' target, the ground shook as Anthony's wind attack gashed in perfect dome shape, forcing Nathall to elude his counteroffensive. Shocked, Anthony witnessed Nathall shifting only a foot away from the wedged perimeter of his attack. His enemy quickly guessed the danger zone of his counterattack, wasting nothing from distancing too much. Again, Anthony was greeted by Nathall's strange comment.

"I think you are my _business_ then Anthony…"

Almost as if Anthony blinked for a fraction of a second that Nathall vanished erratically. Next thing he knew a powerful blow gushed below him, as if a huge cannon was shot in short distance. Though Anthony collected some strength to neutralize the attack, the steep power of Nathall's punch threw him flying in the air, disoriented. Nathall suddenly popped above him, delivering a powerful axe kick. Anthony, although expecting him, resorted to pulling enough strength to shield him from the inevitable as dodging was too late. Like a bullet shot, Anthony's body crashed straight through the ground. The impact was too powerful, causing shockwave to reverberate intensely below the ground while Anthony clattered miserably on Hipstein soil. Nathall landed gently, few meters away from Anthony's almost lifeless body and Ian's spherical shield, observing the scene with impervious expression.

Although floating in a dizzy, dozy slumber of close defeat, Anthony's consciousness remained intact on one thing that kept him going: Ian. The tiniest link of his awareness kept him breathing, reaching forward and grasping the light waiting at the end of a tunnel. He didn't care if his bones were broken, his face bloody or even if his body is torn into pieces. It was the same feeling he had when he confronted Michael. Anger and resolution fueled him to go further. Things might have been quick, strange and disastrous. Cross, Azlirel, Aucelus and now Nathall, these people were after one thing he feared. Now he is dealing with it. He needed to outwit it. To cast it off and finish things before he himself is done. Coughing blood, Anthony smelled dirt while his body lay immobile on the ground. His eyes illuminated the dusty shade of earth. Anthony gathered his strength to lift his limp body and face god once more.

Nathall knew Anthony survived the blows. It was naïve that a Sentinel like him would be defeated easily like that. The fact that Ian's spherical shield remained glowing is a testimony to Anthony's undaunted devotion of protecting. He watched as Anthony rose purposefully. To his admiration, he saw Anthony's eyes glinting with drive. Bloody and almost unconscious, Anthony looked defeated but a soldier like Nathall knows the burning determination he holds on to.

"Things that matter…" Nathall muttered, eyeing his opponent unperturbedly. "Other than breathing again, now I'm glad Anthony..."

"Glad…of what?" Anthony exasperatedly replied, almost in hushed tone, whispering in exhaustion and persistence.

"You found your way."

"I've never lost the path…"

The wind blew softly as Anthony strode slowly towards Nathall. His wounds slowly healed returning him to the original undamaged state he was before. Anthony wore a blank expression, while Nathall painted a faint carefree smile.

"It always comes to near death that you need to maintain this transcendent level?" Nathall said with enthusiasm.

Not even answering, Anthony sluggishly raised his right hand, gesturing his index and middle finger, summoning a peaceful gale, swirling around it.

" _That's odd…"_ Nathall whispered.

Even though Nathall saw crystal clear Anthony prepping a spell, it felt strange that he couldn't react. For someone to see his enemy outright preparing an attack, a fraction of second delay is significant to intercept that, but Nathall just couldn't. He felt Anthony's gesticulations fluid and peaceful to watch. The motions were dawdling that it felt time slowed or even non-existent. It was until that a dangerous whirling blade of wind sprung below Nathall that he had finally relied on his pristine reactions.

One of Nathall's notoriously powerful passive skills was his unbelievable reflexes. Many of his past adversaries almost cheered in victory for thinking they've successfully landed a fatal blow. But no matter how quick and powerful they were Nathall's immaculate impulse separates him from the rest. And Anthony was just about to scratch the surface of Nathall's notorious skills.

To Nathall's surprise Anthony disappeared in sight, reappearing behind him, glowing with fading gray aura. For one moment it felt strange how Anthony moved. His recent attack felt exactly the same as with his nippy move before it.

" _Hallucinate?_ " Nathall tried guessing. But he judged differently. Hallucinate felt nothing. The user technically becomes non-existent making it literally impossible to establish any trail. What Anthony was using was theoretically existent. He can see it clearly almost in focused detail. But that was exactly the scary part because during the sluggish lapse, Nathall's senses can't react normally.

" _It can't be Hallucinate. But I think that tiny window might help me shed some light._ " Nathall concluded.

Anthony opened his right palm, creating a swirling gale force that appeared calm and harmless, when suddenly, two seconds past that it detonated furiously. It sent an outward sonic-like blade of wind that crushed everything around. As smoke and dust settled Anthony was astonished as Nathall timely shifted his right arm behind to block the attack. Although the sonic force exploded with tremendous damage around it, Nathall appeared unharmed. Suddenly, Nathall faced Anthony with his right hand placed between the two of them. The seventh Sentinel instantly hauled some tiny orb of energy on his palm. Straightaway, Nathall crushed the orb in his palm and raised his right foot to deliver a mighty stomp on the ground. Anthony couldn't dodge away instead amassed some grayish energy, ready to shield himself from Nathall's powerful attack. A fraction of second went as Nathall delivered a destructive shockwave, originating from his foot, crawling in great speed and brutal power, pulverizing everything around. Anthony analyzed that the perimeter of Nathall's counteroffensive was too wide that he intended for the attack to reach Ian's. Instinctively Anthony hastily enveloped Ian's spherical shield with the same grayish energy, layering it with an outer barrier.

Nathall's counter was a force to reckon. Everything around him, living and non-living turned to molten, flaming materials. It was as if seeing the ground getting skinned in an instant. The shockwave failed to penetrate however Anthony's quick but excellent defense. However, it was enough to shatter easily the barrier he created around Ian's spherical shield, bypassing his supportive shield. Nathall chuckled, impressed by Anthony's god-like reaction.

Without warning Anthony vanished in thin air. He appeared and reappeared in four positions around Nathall and almost, as if rapidly, threw a patently fast grayish white blade of winds in all four directions. A loud explosion obscured the place. Crushed rocks flew everywhere as dusty smoke and misty haze masked the scene. Anthony quickly casted another grayish barrier around Ian's spherical shield as he waits for his adversary to emanate. Floating in midair, he watched as dust and smoke slowly dissipated, revealing Nathall's undamaged figure.

Few seconds-long pauses drifted as both men gazed at each other. Nathall dropped his smile, shifting to an unreadable persona like Anthony did all this time around. Blinking, Nathall burst in great speed, lunging in dynamic motion. The ground quivered. Every piece of rubble and trees alive shook in response. It felt like earth vibrated in answer to a nuclear flash as Nathall launch in perfect trajectory towards his target, carrying with him a pulsating bluish mass of condensed energy, concentrated menacingly around his fist. Even before Nathall instigate his attack, Anthony's right hand already gathered a fusion of green and gray swirling energy. It appeared serene but immensely potent. When Nathall darted, Anthony simultaneously shrunk the wind into a marble-sized ball, sending it forth against Nathall. He knew that Nathall's attack was very straightforward and that his counter was perfectly timed to collide with his enemy. Nathall couldn't divert his advancement anymore and decided to deliver the punch prematurely, meeting with force the marble-sized orb Anthony released. As two powers strike, an unseen orbicular wave of impact spread everything around, shattering and blowing everything away.

Emerging from a steam-filled atmosphere, Nathall's figure continued raging on. His bluish mass of condensed energy appeared unfazed. Directly in contact, Anthony hauled all his might to counter Nathall. Green and gray wind clashed with bluish flame creating another sphere of impact dissipating outward. Anthony felt it gradually. Nathall's power was undisputable. Despite all Anthony's efforts to negate the effect he could still feel the pure amount of solitude his enemy pours in his attack. He felt green for wanting to equalize himself from Nathall's primeval strength. A tinge of incompetence flicked inside him. He shrugged it immediately, knowing that such dull thought wouldn't do any good. Instead he felt happy instantly. Anthony was glad for meeting his brethren with such unspeakable reputation. He never thought of seeing the daylight without encountering one.

" _Amazing…_ " Anthony trailed on.

" _I've never expected this day will arrive. That of all the things that tested my will, pushing myself innocently and bravely was what I've always been doing. I forgot the meaning…_ " Anthony wandered inside his train of thoughts.

"But I haven't forgotten the feeling…" Anthony muttered while Nathall blankly gazed at his solid brown eyes.

With one swift motion, Anthony motioned his left hand, and released a strikingly, white sonic wave that broke the almost deadlock battle between his grayish green wind and Nathall's destructive bluish flame. Anthony flung downward. The force was too great and he had exhausted too much move to retaliate against the current, failing to gain leverage. As his body hastily crashed below, Nathall materialize in the air, undeterred. His blue flame dissolved in oblivion as he observed the ground, finding Anthony. Wasting no more time, Nathall plunged once more, this time his fist collected reddish matter, almost like molten lava, suspended in midair, glowing sinisterly. He dashed below, delivering a straightforward blow, ready to pulverize his target. The ground shook terribly. The earth almost split. As Nathall's merciless attack carved a crater on the ground, earthshattering shockwave disperse across the Hipstein soil. It was too powerful that even innocent bystanders outside the perimeter of Silent Harrow simultaneously shifted their heads to find the source of commotion.

Although still not smiling, Nathall wore an interested expression when he knew that his offensive measure didn't land successfully. Behind him stood a man that based on his memory was a figment of his dream before. Their souls were _linked_ , with Michael stating that "You will be reborn." Nathall felt almost mirrored, watching his future reincarnated in the person of Alfred.

Alfred felt a bit awkward. He knew the man well, but seeing him in person right now was more of a nightmare than a nostalgic dream that felt comforting.

"It's ironic seeing you like this." Alfred declared while cradling Anthony's almost lifeless body. When he felt that Anthony was regaining a bit of consciousness he let him stand on the ground, supporting him lightly.

"You looked exactly from that vision." Nathall answered. "But why do I feel that I have to kill you right now?" Nathall pondered confusingly.

"You don't know the answer." Alfred coolly replied.

"Honestly I don't" Nathall smirked, breaking his blank persona.

When Anthony saw Alfred he wanted to ask tons of things but held back. His focus shifted back to Nathall and to Aucelus.

"Tread carefully now Anthony. This will only be a one shot. This absurdity in front of me should end now." Alfred said.

"It hurts me for you saying that, but I understand and yet…I really don't." Nathall admitted, grinning but feeling lost.

Anthony nodded. A quick flash of Ian's smirk registered inside Anthony's mind. He scoffed as he smelled dirt smudged across his face. His shirt was miserably torn, revealing his battered and wounded figure. He raised his right hand to reach for his heart, touching it and recalling a memory that held him unwavering all this time, peaceful wind begin to gather around him. He closed his eyes as mass of swirling energy accumulates below him, coursing slowly towards his right hand. Nathall remained unperturbed watching intently his fellow Sentinel finding resolve across this twisted and chaotic mess they are in.

Alfred stood sternly between Nathall and Anthony. Earth shook once more as Nathall heave his legendary might before his brothers, who stood still, struggling against his wrong existence. Aucelus couldn't be more of a genius than a twisted savior of his kin. History always repeated itself. Disagreements between Aucelus' and Ian's family never ends let alone reconciles. Alfred clutched his hands while Nathall continued gathering tremendous energy and Anthony collecting serene gale of winds.

"You looked exactly like Michael." Nathall commended Alfred. "Plain and simple."

Both men vanished in thin sight as they entered a state that living things didn't exist. The only person who could saw them clearly was Anthony. While he continued gathering the most of his wind energy, he saw two legends clashed. The non-existent plane where Nathall and Alfred were suddenly broke, shifting the phase and bringing them back to reality. Thunderous wave dispersed, scattering in unreachable vicinity, shaking the heaven and earth with unstoppable might. Nathall battled fiercely while Alfred stood unruffled, backed by his colossal strength to protect.

All three men recalled a flash of image inside their heads. All of them felt entranced for a second of their life. Even a blood-oath-controlled Nathall couldn't resist the ancient value of Claire's image flashing before his eyes. Alfred held on to Rob's boyish grin. Anthony, carrying with him Ian's priceless derp smile was the only one to move openly, with painstaking and dashing detail. Ending the skirmish, Anthony appeared beside Alfred and simultaneously delivered an upward motion of his right hand, conjuring a strangely but powerfully divine wind. Nathall was surprised but felt satisfied. A second-long pause almost felt minutes of deep contemplation.

"I wish we could sit one day and drink…" Nathall fancied. "I'm not sure though if that'd be a dream or reality."

The clash of might ended as Nathall knelt, slowly turning into ash. His withered corpse slowly embraced the wind as he looked once more his brothers. Words were held, but the looks etched across their faces were enough to deliver the timeless message. Sad but was necessary. Heartbreaking but it was real. Next thing Anthony knew, his friend and brother slowly faded as well. He felt the lump of regret forming in his throat. Breathing was the hardest thing he knew once more. His heart broke. His mind tried to conjure an image, fabricate a memory that Alfred was always there…still there. He can't imagine if Ian was the one he'd be losing. But for someone as close and important to him, Alfred's slow disappearance hurt him deliberately.

"At least I saw the both of you once more…" Alfred said contentedly. Anthony stood frozen as the last of Alfred's essence vanished in thin air. Reflected in his mind the mature face of his predecessor, all the while remembering as well Nathall's fulfilled and thankful smile.

No words of choice could Anthony find as he continued gathering another wave of peaceful wind, knowing that the last enemy he will face is ready to finish him.

"You found your way once, you can do it again." Alfred bid farewell as his body slowly crumbled into dust. Tears beaded at the corner of Anthony's eyes but he tried his best to not falter. The next encounter would be thoughtful and of great significance. A second lapse is impermissible. While Anthony continued hauling the best of his powers, Aucelus broke his trance and prepared himself as well.

"If I had to bring you with me, I will…" Aucelus said resolutely.

"No more…" Anthony whispered.

The two dissolved, disappearing in unison. Anthony knew Aucelus wouldn't waste his last move against him and instead darted straight towards Ian. Although he knew Anthony could still bypass him, Aucelus gambled his last card and delivered his retribution nonetheless. Aucelus' white orb of energy smashed against Anthony's fist covered by the same strange tranquil wind energy. Seconds passed when Aucelus final smash thawed. Leaving himself wide open, Anthony used his left hand to deliver the final blow, pushing his target away. Aucelus didn't appear tangibly harmed. It was as if his soul was the ultimate target of Anthony's final draw. Nevertheless Anthony triumphantly saw his nemesis flying backwards, slumping on the ground, looking helpless.

Aucelus' visage strangely painted a content smile. He failed to reach his goal but he probably found some resolve at least. Anthony strode gently towards his opponent, catching a glimpse of his contemplative defeat.

"No more…" Anthony didn't whisper, the words were audible enough to keep his adversary's attention.

Aucelus' eyes found Anthony's. Seconds of silence passed as the two men gazed at each other pensively.

"You're a great brother Anthony…" Aucelus desperately said in composed tone.

"I wish I had strength of heart instead of mind. I lacked it…miserably."

Anthony could only stare blankly as his opponent mutters the final words of acceptance and downfall.

"I'm sorry Anthony…pain is always there…always…" Aucelus gasped for his last breath. The vengeful look of his eyes dissolved sluggishly, transforming into a pacific and almost exultant regard. Anthony didn't mind whatever Aucelus felt before succumbing to his demise. He found resolution this time and achieved what he always held on to. He succeeded on that.

"No more…make peace with it."

Aucelus smiled weakly as the life out of his eyes finally faded. The last image he saw was Anthony's serene face, making concord with the past he didn't even had to deal with.

The lock began unchaining. Gently, the bluish spherical shield Ian was in began melting. Each dawdling particle of energy appeared like vanishing life force transforming from solid to dust and to nothing. Ian leisurely lands on the ground, slowly regaining his consciousness. He felt energetically awakened as if he broke out of a tranquil dream. Instinctively he searched for Anthony. His eyes met the image of his friend whose back was on him. He beamed, relief patent in his face. Contented despite the despondent image of his once called "home", ravaged and destroyed by an unnecessary war. Every single obliteration surrounded him but he didn't care. Ian doesn't care anymore if he lives on rags and scraps, so long as Anthony was there he will always be happy. Seconds later, Ian's smile changed into anxiety, changing into a concerned and nervous visage. Ian watched, not aware he was already running toward his friend collapsed on the ground.

Before Anthony lost contact of the world, he heard his name from the person he loved the most.


	11. Chapter 11 - It's Always Shdadows

**CHAPTER 11: IT'S ALWAYS SHADOWS**

Dim but untroublesome, the lighting of Rob's home was welcoming nevertheless. Ian thought he could mess things up here. Redecorate the house the way he accurately remembers his previous home. Cozy but well-spaced, he instinctively imagined himself bustling around doing the same thing he did before. However, right now that wasn't an urgent work he needs to accomplish. The last recurring memory he had before was Anthony's falling body. Assistance came along. A well capable confidant of his family came to aid Ian. He reassured him that Anthony is in good condition. He was just "tired".

Whenever Ian found himself alone in a corner, things get captivating as memories came rushing through his senses. Everything was totally crazy. He's in awe with what just happened before his eyes. Everything was all of a sudden. For a moment he was only having a casual conversation and everything went upside down. He was swallowed by a world so dark even if things were so crystal clear he struggled to peer through. Nothing made him tremble for a long time. The extent of humanity's ruthless capability is a shock none could muster and withstand. But there he was, always in front of him, defending. Anthony asked Ian to trust him. Ian held on to that. Anthony kept it. Even though he saw only a fifth of the scene, a flicker of thought ignited in his mind; peril is undreamed-of and Anthony will always stir some light.

Every single minute of the day passed his mind was still wrapped around it. The initial loud explosions, their house torn asunder, the silhouette of a man and woman Anthony was expressionlessly gaping at, and Ian choking, worried, scared to death and unable to respond sanely. Terrifying as it felt, he and Anthony managed to survive a confrontation. People tell unpleasant tales of similar situation. Generations before Ian was what they say a "brutal struggle".

Ian however was distressed. Their house was a pile of rubble. Ian and Anthony worked hard building it. Now everything was a complete mess. They've got the blessing of their closest family for constructing that house. The sofa they bought, the entertainment system and video game consoles he kept on nagging to buy, the comfy kitchen, everything.

But Ian was sadder when Anthony suddenly lost consciousness after the battle. As Ian sat beside their new bed, their new house, he observed Anthony carefully, staring at his restful face keenly. He was absorbed at his situation. Anthony lay quietly in the bed. The streaks of his raven hair looked ruffled. Ian didn't care. The doctor said it would be fine for Anthony to be at home. He just needed a complete, undisturbed rest. An aid of Ronhue told him that he was just exhausted.

Taking care of Anthony taught him a lot of mature things to handle. He learned how to cook, to be not clumsy and dependent on everything. He learned to attentively list all the things needed for their new home and be mindful of all the chores Anthony was typically doing. He became heedful of the extra duties Anthony usually does for him.

Michael assigned Federick Haspel Gadelatio Ronhue to look out for Anthony's condition and oversee Ian. Like his family's specialty, Federick is no stranger to medical profession. It is their family's field of priceless expertise. The Ronhues have been in great service to the Hipsteins for centuries. Federick's prodigious aptitude in medicine is inherited way before he knew the quantifiable discoveries the current world has to offer. He is known also for productively harnessing his skills in medicine for combat purposes. He is sometimes tagged as the person who can "restore and destroy". Although not different with his past predecessor, Federick's caliber was enough to earn him the phrase.

"Did he budge a bit?" Federick asked, as he entered the room, seeing Ian sitting beside Anthony, all the while staring at him when he arrived. Smiling feebly, Ian shook his head in response.

Federick was somehow a man unlikely of his profession. Tall, well-built and charismatic, Ian thought of him better suited for diplomatic vocation. His hair was as dark as Anthony's, except its cleanly cut and pleasingly arranged. His coal black eyes, brows and beard accentuated in unison the pale complexion of his skin. Federick wore what Ian thought as down-to-earth get up for a doctor: mildly fit gray long-sleeves shirt, dark jeans, black, gray and white Nike shoes. His white gold bracelet and silver and gold plated Rolex watch made the difference in his fray of image. He carried with him a duffle bag Ian guessed where his supplies are.

"It's his second day. Judging from the amount of strength he exhausted, it might take a week for him to fully recuperate."

"That long?" Ian muttered, sounding drained.

"That was just my estimate. But Anthony, like any other Sentinel I've met is stronger. He might recover earlier than that. Keep an eye on him." Federick reassured him.

When Federick saw Ian not pulling a relieved expression he sat opposite him beside Anthony too.

"How about you?" Federick probed.

"Me?" Ian replied, scoffing.

"I'm still into this skirmish. There's…tons of question rambling in my mind."

"Better not ask."

"Hm?"

"It'll fret you even more. Trust me."

"When he left me _there_ I though I'm going to experience the first time I've been _there_."

Federick gazed at him attentively, while rummaging some of his medical stuff inside his bag.

"I begged him to not leave me there because it was horrible." Ian recalled.

"He resorted to the best method of protecting you." Federick substantiated.

"I know that but…"

"Was it really that bad?" Federick asked.

"It wasn't. The bad thing really is…that I couldn't even handle seeing him fight to the death." Ian admitted, sounding and looking ashamed.

Federick sensed the heightened sincerity in Ian's tone and settled his stuff beside the lamp table. Closing his hands and holding them together, Federick watch Ian continue sharing what he truly felt during the time Anthony put his life on the line for protecting him.

"My soul may be forfeited to something but the least I could do for a friend who would do anything for me is stand beside him, muster all the strength to see him pour everything until he wins."

Ian scoffed sarcastically and said. "I couldn't even make that."

"It's not—" Federick stopped when Ian interrupted him and continued revealing his feelings.

"I hated _that_ place because it imprisons me literally."

"But he didn't feel or thought the way you might think of his thinking." Federick said and was glad that Ian finally shifted his eyes to his. It is more bolstering to converse when each person in a conversation is looking straight in their eyes.

"I'm like him Ian. I know the feeling of the ones I'm protecting. At some point you feel useless but we think of it the other way around. We protect because it isn't only our duty to do so. We protect because we love. We maintain that love linked to selflessness until our last breath."

Ian remained silent, altering his glance from Anthony, to Federick and around the room.

"Come on now, you don't' plan to be gloomy until your friend recovers right? Raise your spirits will you? Anthony wants to see that derp face of yours when he wakes up." Federick jested.

"How is he?" Ian asked eagerly.

"Better."

Out of curiosity Ian finds it fascinating to watch Federick exhibit a bit of his family's heirloom skill. He saw Federick carefully and surgically wields a six-inch needle. What's more intriguing for him is the needle themselves are inscribed with some unknown symbols. When Federick noticed him releasing an amused sigh he shot a glance almost asking " _What?_ ".

"This really amazes me." Ian mentioned stimulatingly, gesturing to Federick's unworldly use of needles to check Anthony's health.

"This? It's nothing that much really." Federick explained, exerting a mix of humility and pretension.

"What are you exactly doing?" Ian inquired further. Federick grinned and snorted, shaking his head afterwards.

"Hm? Oh please. Try me." Ian said indignantly. For some reason he can't feel annoyed by Federick's fleeting haughtiness. The least he actually wanted is for some royalty servant acting all sad, silent and serious.

"Well. I'm trying to align his energy. We've manage to fix tons of broken _lines_ across his body."

When Federick sensed the faint effort from Ian's part of comprehending his initial explanation he chuckled but continued expounding as simple as he can nonetheless.

"You see, our body has eight gates. Anthony opened six of it and was almost at the verge of unlocking the seventh. Normally, opening the fourth sends extreme strain from one's physical body already and more than that can cause irreversible damage. However Sentinels have special cases. Michael taught us how to _smoothen_ the energy we used, regardless how powerful it is, so that the lines connecting the gates are not compromised even if more than four gates are opened. The only downside is that utilizing too much can cause extreme after effects of exhaustion or worst instant death." Federick expansively said. By the last word Ian's visage turned visibly uneasy. Federick quickly noticed this and continued explaining.

"What's that? Like anesthesia?" Ian guessed, to which Federick nodded but frowning, as if saying " _Something like that._ "

"Anthony used a lot and I mean _too much_. When I heard he fought Nathall Sage Clementia before Aucelus I thought it is justifiable albeit honestly a little futile because this is Nathall we are talking."

"What is he a god?" Ian interrupted, sounding incensed.

"He is a prodigy of Michael. Though he rose during the seventh generation his reputation is as true as the mocking war conspired by the Gades recently."

"Wait! He's a Sentinel? One of ours!?" Ian tried confirming suspiciously.

"He was resurrected by an ancient relic, mind-controlled by some powerful binding magic, a very dangerous oath driven spell which explains why it is so powerful but…I was also astounded that they were able to bring back a great person shrouded in mystery then brainwashed him for their bidding." Federick noticed Ian going silent. He saw a battling confusion coated with incredulity in his eyes.

"Then how were they able to learn about Nathall?" Ian asked, controlling his disposition.

"That's just a layer of countless questions we are trying to unearth. Nathall is reputable, yes, but Michael tried his best to conceal his and Claire Hipstein's identities. There were many families of ours who put their life on the line to protect them including the history they've made."

"Maybe one of those families sold that secret?"

Federick was intimidated by Ian's wits. He was indeed following him closely and taking these revelations much like a full-fledged detective. What more could he expect if the entire Hipstein, especially his friend Anthony, was involved in such ancient battle. However Federick decided to end their conversation. He knew that the more Ian gets involved the closer he might know the truth. The truth that was hurtful enough that he may end destroying himself.

"Let's just leave these things to the experts."

"But who might be that family?" Ian pressed.

"Ian…We don't know yet. But the important thing is you are safe. Anthony is safe. Everyone is safe at least for now. Don't bother yourself about these things okay?" Federick implored, donning his best convincing facial expression. Ian shifted his eyes to Anthony and gazed for a good few seconds against Federick's coal black eyes. Sighing, Ian resolved.

"You're right…" Ian sighed even more deeply, scratching his head and rubbing his eyes briefly.

"Men…these are fucked up." Ian renounced. Federick nodded in return.

"Jeez…I don't know. I don't even anymore." Ian returned his eyes to Anthony again. "You better wake up Anthony. You're not going to leave me in the dark anymore." He transferred his gaze once again to Federick. "I'm used to see things normal humans do. What this family strangely beholds was always behind me. I do not often see the real thing. It's always shadows."

"Are you always this poetic?" Federick prattled, narrowing his eyes.

"Am I to be taken for being whimsical?" Ian jeered, furrowing his brows.

"If you don't mind, I wanted to ask you this." Ian inquired courteously.

"Ask me anything you want." Federick submitted, glad Ian didn't push further about crazy ancient family stuff.

"Why did it end so soon? You and…" Ian was straightforward enough that Federick knew already what he was asking.

"I resigned because I believe I could no longer serve my subject to the best of my qualities."

"You had differences?"

Federick nodded. Part of Sentinel's job is connectedness. It isn't all about topnotch skills to fulfill a subject's safety. All other aspects had to be taken into account. Federick believed that his differences might compromise his subject's overall being that he needed to cut his ties already. But Ian, deciding to reserve such curiosity, believed there was something else. Despite being in the position of deserving enlightenment after all the crazy shit going on, he deems Federick a different, respectable case, thus decided not to pry anymore.

"You're like what now? A free agent?" Ian surmised.

"Sort of."

"What were you doing before this?"

"I'm pretty occupied around our circle but I also spend time outside."

"You use _these_ outside?"

"Of course not. I know alternatives Ian." Federick chuckled. While Ian nodded, sounding enthralled. It took a few seconds before Ian asked a question that bugged him for a while.

"I heard you were a candidate for me, behind Anthony?"

"Yeah." Federick replied flatly.

"You think that is the reason why the _higher ups_ assigned you to personally look out for me?" Ian shared his deduction while Federick shrugged, traceless with emotion.

"I'm sorry if I sound skeptical, asking you these questions…"

"You don't' have to explain. I don't' really mind. You can ask me whatever you want Ian. I won't take it personally." Federick reassured Ian.

Federick was indeed one of the shortlist candidate Michael personally evaluated to be Ian's official Sentinel. Reputable, powerful and caring, Federick was almost indifferent to Anthony's suitable qualities for the current heir's needs. Ian wanted to ask Federick what was the reason behind he didn't get the job. He hoped Michael might have told him why. Ian instead held himself, thinking such inquisitiveness is pretty out of hand already. Ian felt gripped, wondering how Federick differed from Anthony. What was with Anthony's qualities that Federick didn't have? Ian decided to shrug it off. Small details such as this are one of those that needed no further attention, especially right now.

"You want something?" Ian presented.

"You manage?" Federick sounded impressed. Ian nodded in return.

"I'll prepare dinner." Ian offered.

"You can?"

"Why the hell is everyone always unconvinced when I'm in charge of kitchen eh?" Ian said annoyingly, rolling his eyes where Federick sniggered.

"They say you're a master take-out."

"Not anymore bitch." Ian said smugly but apologized immediately. "Oops. Pardon my French."

Federick didn't mind Ian's language instead laughed at his displeasure.

"Can I join you?" Federick bargained.

"Be my guest. You might probably aid me about this dish I wanted to cook."

When Ian left the room Federick scoffed all the while Anthony's face highlighted a countenance full of tranquility from an undisturbed sleep.

It took only three full days for Anthony to recover. However it was still evident that he looked weakened. His eyes were a bit droopy and his words somewhat slurred. He can't even stand on his own unless supported by someone. It was also troublesome the moment he had awoken. Anthony, from his panic-stricken history, became agitated when he woke up not seeing anyone, _especially_ Ian. He took a second to scan his surroundings. It looked definitely alien to him. He remembers nothing but the battle. He blinked and tried to speak. Nothing came out of his mouth. A twinge of nervousness kicked in. Anthony sighed deeply and collected some strength.

"I…I-" Anthony mumbled. Pathetically, such simple thing was too taxing for him.

"Ian…I-" He tried again, this time with little loudness in his voice. When nothing answered his stomach lurched. Tears swelled on the corners of his eyes. His heart pounded furiously. Anthony's eyes rolled rapidly, searching for someone, anyone, and whoever. He was scared and confused.

"Ian…" His voice gained more volume but still not enough to get anyone's attention. Anthony tried to raise himself. His legs felt wobbly. His hands tightly clutched the bed sheets.

"I-Ian!" Anthony growled. He began sobbing. Feeling helpless for the first time in his life, he felt ashamed of his damaged state.

Suddenly the door adjacent to his bed swung open. It was Federick. Anthony can't recall clearly who this guy was. Federick was nevertheless concerned. His face flaunted relief but he knew that Anthony's wake automatically meant Ian's presence. More so, he quickly noticed Anthony's unusually agitated behavior. He obviously is frightened or anxious. Federick was even alarmed he might attack him.

"Hey, hey man It's okay. I'm Federick Ronhue. You don't remember me that much but I'm a friend. Michael sent me. Ian is just outside the neighborhood procuring some vegetables. Don't worry about him, he's safe."

Federick immediately thought of getting Ian back. But seeing Anthony filled with fear and confusion, he knew he can't leave him like this. He slowly treaded towards Anthony explaining as little but reassuring as he could.

"Don't be scared Anthony. I'm taking care of you…and Ian too, but don't be afraid of me. You need to relax. It's affecting your health."

Anthony somehow recognized Federick and nodded. Seeing this as a sign of trust, Federick quickly sat beside him and checked his vitals. Inexplicably, Anthony smelled Federick's perfume. The scent was faintly familiar. When Federick placed his left hand in Anthony's chest he noticed his heart was beating abnormally. Anthony's panicking hasn't subsided fully. Tears were brimming from Anthony's eyes. His breathing was heavy almost like short fraught snuffles.

"Okay listen to me man. Look at me! It's going to be fine. Ian is fine. Breathe slowly. There, into your mouth and out, slowly. Just relax, everything is safe and sound." Federick moved his right hand to cup Anthony's head, running his fingers through his ruffled, messy hair. He placed his hand gently into his chest and continued guiding him from his edgy breathing.

"That's it…inhale, yes…exhale, feeling well now?" Federick checked, nodding slowly as he asks Anthony. Gratefully, Anthony begun to calm down, realization and reason finally setting in.

"Ian is safe and this is Silent Harrow. Everything went well now. No need to be edgy. Thanks to you…" Federick elucidated, seeing Anthony's face obviously looking for Ian. Sighing, Federick continued sharing some information as carefully as he could. Seeing Anthony's solid gaze meant he was confident to take any illumination from his murky state, and he'll endure it no matter how bright it will be.

"A special team was dispatched to take care of the case against the Gades. They are busy alleviating the tensions from the inside and outside of Irish Sphere. Diplomacy at its best feat, if you ask me. Initially though, they believe the Gades were just frontlines. There is someone else pulling the strings." Federick scoffed, catching a confounded Anthony glimpsing at him.

"But you know what? Michael is as wily as he is. He's a man who won't take disrespect unnoticed. While these entire charades take place he on the other hand explores deeper…" Anthony kept staring at him not even blinking for a second.

"You understand why?" Federick asked cryptically.

"N-Nathall…" Anthony mumbled, almost gasping for air. Federick nodded, gesturing his index finger in agreement. He was impressed by Anthony's grip of the situation. It felt yesterday's confusing battle was a complicated story uncovered already, well mildly.

"This is by the way the 14th successor's house. Michael arranged this for you and Ian."

A tinge of pain pinched Anthony's heart. He remembered Alfred. Uncovering this senseless battle proved to be a revelation at steep cost. Is Alfred's life the payment? Who else?

"Let him take care of it Anthony…" Federick muttered in confidence. He knew Anthony will be among the few people who affectionately regard Alfred.

Talking was too strenuous. Anthony settled to tell Ian someday about Alfred's fate. He might weep for sure. Seeing him dealing stress over himself already frets him. How more if he knew about Alfred? Anthony was still too weak to be at his subject's side, to alleviate the pain that was too unfair, pain that this incessant war, though he won over, had cost dearly.

Before Federick could even react he saw Ian already standing by the door. The room fell silent until Ian muttered something.

"H-hey…donuts?"

Federick snickered noiselessly while Anthony smiled feebly. Ian, although almost teary, joined by laughing.

"I'll leave you two alone." Federick simply said, when he walked past Ian he patted him in his back.

Ian strode unhurriedly towards Anthony.

"You're hungry?" he gestured over the box of donuts he was carrying.

"The neighborhood is safe. I know you'll fret when you found out I'm socializing outside on my own. And don't blame Federick. He has helped us more than you know recently." Ian finally sat beside him.

"You want to drink?" Ian asked again and without an answer from Anthony he began to stand up to get one but was abruptly stopped when Anthony grabbed his left hand. Ian wasn't dumb to figure it out. Anthony just wanted him to stay. Ian retreated, sat beside his bed again. There were few seconds of silence between them.

"J-just keep on t-talking…and…please stay for a while, w-will you?"

Ian nodded, absentmindedly searching around and when he exhumed something in his head he shot an excited glance over Anthony.

"I got a huge plan for this place. Actually I really love our old home. But it was a total mess now. House crushed into pieces, there were crates everywhere and most of the trees were hacked."

When Ian saw a sudden hint of depression in Anthony's face he immediately prattled something to instill enthusiasm and hope.

"But it's totally alright now. Let's just leave the events these past days behind us. Trust me. Our new home, we're going to build it together." Ian reassured him, flashing a bearded smile that made him look a lot younger.

"Oh by the way, guess what?" Ian trailed on.

"W-what?" Anthony curiously asked, his brows creasing.

"I know how to cook!" Ian beamed again, a wide genuine bearded grin. He shook his head in disbelief. He didn't know if he could convince Anthony. But for the past days he learned to live without Anthony doing everything for him. He tried hard to remember all the basic approach of household chores, the safety and efficient methods of getting them done. Anthony remembered him preparing teas and scones for him. Although they were partly prepared already he loved the idea of Ian preparing something for him. Not only it was adorable but it was downright endearing.

"Federick helped me. He's really good. You don't have to worry about our safety. You just need to get well, and that's the most important thing right?" Ian guaranteed. He intently locked eyes with Anthony to see if he abides by his request. Anthony nodded in return.

Anthony was bothered a bit. Who is this Federick anyway? A flicker of wariness was about to take over him when Ian suddenly intercepted his thoughts by explaining.

"He's from the Ronhues. The greatest kin my family has allegiance with in the world of medicine. I'm glad he's aiding us personally."

Anthony pulled a smile, grateful of Ian's innocent straightforwardness.

"S-so you're cooking?" Anthony muttered, gaining a bit of strength this time.

"I know you won't believe me, but I do. Just wait. When you get well I'm gonna make you some lunch." Ian beamed ardently. Anthony chortled faintly.

"I hated the fact that most of our video games where gone. Jeez, why am I even worrying about that! We'll find something." Ian recalled forlornly. They always had fun killing the rest of the day by seating in their sofa and crunch hours for hours playing video games. Now it was gone he felt sad because most of them meant a lot to him.

"Okay enough with this conversation. You need to get more rest. I need you to get well soon." Ian stated commandingly. When Anthony tried to mumble Ian cut him off.

"No more ifs and buts. Just rest okay? Besides I want you to taste my cooking as soon as you get out of this bed. I can see it in your face, you're unconvinced! Don't fucking lie to me. But I'll show you. You'll see, you'll see." Ian rambled proudly.

"I'll definitely be the j-judge of that." Anthony said softly, sneering. Ian glared at him.

Ian was right. All the talking made him worn out instantly. He was glad he made progress from his weakened state. He was totally scared at first. Waking up alone, seeing no one. But Ian showed up. He totally felt safe and sound, satisfied. His eyes looked droopier and after Ian grabbed a pillow for him to hug, he fell asleep right away. Ian sighed happily. He began shuffling the sheets to keep Anthony warm. Before he got up to fetch some water he felt a brief moment of tenseness. He shrugs it off but swears that he might be blushing. Probably he just missed him a lot. Those shock and fears almost took his heart out. What if he didn't survive? Ian dreaded life without him. He didn't really ponder over this before. Even he's fully aware of Anthony's true duty for him years ago, he never truly expected the feeling of danger and fear of losing someone you loved. Now something actually happened and it all dawned to him. He would go crazy if Anthony was gone. Every inch and piece of him would miss Anthony. He can't deny that. But definitely there was something more.

Few weeks passed and Anthony had fully recovered. He and Ian immediately got into business. First on their list was their house. Nine months passed. Ian was able to hire the best team to construct their house. All the necessary paper works were done and all the labor and progress were delivered instantaneously. Much to his surprise, landscaping was also a part of it and didn't expect its incorporation to the project to be seamlessly efficient and excellent. Most of their relatives after all were professionals. He found it extremely trouble-free to get the best team that offered the right price for the right quality of output.

Ian was a bit saddened however when they were buying things for their home. Everything except for the video game consoles at least made him gloomy. He loved playing over and over old consoles, mostly Nintendo stuffs. They were pretty hard to find if he wants one, but he preferred not to. Besides if he finds one, the _feel_ to it is just nothing similar. The sentimental nostalgic value of an item he actually owns sets the feeling apart. But Anthony told him something that bore deeply.

"It's not the thing or the memories. It's us. We can just recreate those while we're still alive and still have fun."

But his thought process was a little different. He felt again the twinge of disappointment to himself. However he learned to finally resolved things. What happened was unavoidable. What was important now was they were safe and it's all over. The material things were gone. They're now a memory, but a person's life is a completely different matter. Ian was the most important person in his life. Most of all he just concluded that he was indeed in love with him. He couldn't tell yet. He always wanted to but he always fail. He had no idea where, when and how to begin. He's even scared of what Ian might say. How will he react? Does he feel the same? Will we still be at least friends after I reveal my feelings for him? All this keeps on reverberating inside his mind.

"And tons of groceries, I've listed them all." Ian mumbled while chewing some Vietnamese food. He was into much eating stuffs with rice lately, Anthony thought. He was impressed by Ian's strange maturity lately. Many years ago he only thought of food, video games, his hair, internet and travelling. But now his demeanor began to shift phase slowly. He became more aware of Anthony's need, which was obviously odd for the other. Probably it was due to Anthony blacking out, looking sick and terribly exhausted for the first time that his mother-like caring attitude sprang to life.

"Lots of things to prep at home after these. Oh, there it is. Hah!" Ian tittered, swallowing another spoonful of his food and beckoned Anthony to look on the list he held. Anthony peered through his phone and frowned.

"What are those?" Anthony asked, honestly puzzled.

"Something I wanted to cook. I promised didn't I?" Ian beamed. Anthony was not even sure if it was a prank or an attempt to amaze him.

Out of nowhere a man's face flashed inside Anthony's head after which continuous slides of images flickered like film strips. All forms of memories rushed and rippled unstoppably. Anthony swore he might lose his composure that he'll stumble on the ground, fainting and shaking. The corners of his consciousness beg to unleash the truth that this world is never fair. Things always come at cost. He can never spare Ian the privilege of not knowing. He'll eventually know. He was glad that such episode didn't cause startling impact on him but Ian was keen enough to notice the shift of Anthony's countenance. He knows him too well to ignore such feat.

"Are you okay?" Ian asked, noticeably worried given Anthony's fragile state lately.

But Anthony held his composure and flatly said "Yes…I'm fine."


	12. Chapter 12 - Special Request

**Update as of September 5, 2016. Minor corrections, content almost the same.**

 **BTW the final chapter is on the way. I've decided to end this fanfiction as a response to my motivation of doing another project(s), which will be mostly one shots. But part of the reason is a little change of heart. I'll explain the details once I culminated the Chapter 13 of this Ianthony's fanfic We Only Belong to Each Other.**

 **CHAPTER 12: SPECIAL REQUEST**

"I need to meet him after." Anthony said while striding along the living room carrying a cup of coffee.

"You're fine with this?" Ian inquired. No hint of anxiety was traceable in his voice. He rather tried to confirm than opening an argument. Deep inside, the notion that Anthony wouldn't be around is partly strange but never unsettling. Ian found his feelings and disposition in a more "secured" state. After the Gades' war, Anthony transitioned exponentially to something new. Everyone is safe. Ian felt comfortable in ways that his qualms and inhibitions got washed away. _Inhibitions?_ The word felt out of place. Since when did Ian have reserves between himself and Anthony? As dense as he was always, Ian brushed the word.

"It's just half the day." Anthony snapped him out of his musing, setting his mug on the center table of the living room. "Maybe a lot quicker I hope."

"Why is my attendance not needed anymore?" Ian asked curiously.

"Well, despite how chaotic the situation was _special_ heirs like you are exempted from hearings." The word special impacted Ian differently. He raised his brows while flicking some random magazine on the couch. "The old man seemed to get everything legislated across this family to save you from needless involvement." Anthony explained while wrapping a red and black striped scarf around his neck and finally donning his jet black jacket. Ian can detect a little sarcasm in Anthony's voice. It was as if Anthony was telling him _"I'm cleaning this shit, no need to worry, just relax"_. Ian however is used to this. Besides, Anthony's eyes didn't match well his derision. A mild cynicism was always coupled by a gentle, protective assurance. Anthony will always be like that.

"Needless you say?" Ian said incredulously.

"Besides…even if I'm away I nonetheless feel more in _control_." Anthony admitted, smirking but frowning. Saving the fact from Ian, Anthony felt extraordinarily more powerful. He can see things around him a lot clearer compared before. Even though he still can't sense Ian, there's nothing around him that he can't detect. He can literally feel and predict in split seconds how living and non-living things move around. In his mind, a vast field of sensory reach is fully displayed; flawless, visible and very predictable. He felt more "godly". But there's something he can't shake off. Excluding the fact that he still needs to settle his feelings from his oldest friend there's a tiny weensy detail he can't describe and keeps him uncomfortable. It's a sense of foreboding, no mistaking it. It is the reason why he needed to see _him_ again. There is also a score he need to settle with Michael.

"Federick will be around quarter to nine." Anthony said unflappably.

"Can I go outside a bit?" Ian pleads for consent.

"Uhm." Anthony hesitated. He knows there's no need to be to be super ultra-protective around Ian now. Even if he's miles away he can monitor him easily plus there are attendants in his behalf for the moment. They were the best of their league, not to mention this specific person is Federick, the one who helped him recover. In addition to that, Ian's making a face. Anthony felt disheartened, as per usual, to deny him a simple request. "Sure." Anthony finally agreed, sighing and then he added. "If I wanted to I can teleport instantly beside you." Anthony simpered to which Ian gave him an arched eyebrow clearly meant to point the lack of humility in him.

"I can tell that there are at least five agents stationed around. Two of them about a mile away from us, while the remaining three just flounces around, reading the area." Anthony chuckled, trying to emphasize the superb shape of his sensing skills. He was not wrong after all. Five guardians were stationed to stay guard. Anthony can tell they were not ordinary agents. Even though they did well hiding their presence, Anthony can still sense their exact locations and can estimate their caliber by their mere "false" movements. Their presence is a response to Anthony's situation. While he's busting his ass to brush off probably the most stupid suspicions from Irish echelons, tough security must be imposed to the heir he temporarily abandons.

"And _he_ 's around in my stead." Anthony added. Ian suspected a tinge of sarcasm again in his voice but decided not to investigate.

Ian didn't hear anymore from Anthony except for a short "see you" with a wink of his right eye. Frowning, he closed the magazine, finished his tea and bustled around the house doing the same things he always did. He snatched a moment to take a peak in one of their living room windows. Ian can't see anyone around. _"Of course they're hiding"_ Ian noted mentally. He decided to clean and keep things organized around. For some weird reason a visitor is enough for Ian to keep their home tidy and presentable. Something tells him that Federick was of a glitzy character, that his coal black eyes were keen tools to scan things…judge things. It was unlikely for him to be worried about outsider's perception of him or Anthony. Maybe he was so used to having only Anthony around that he didn't feel very much acquainted with other people. Ian needed not to impress anybody. But Federick is somehow part of their lives now. Not that he'll be staying with them indefinitely, but frequent visits might be a thing in the future. Besides he owes a huge debt from the man. Albeit such feeling of impressing someone is foreign, he feels obligated to be wary of their lifestyle habits and whatnots.

Peace talks had been all around. Both the Hipstein and Gades agreed mutually to be transparent and helpful of the situation. All discreet arrangements had been arranged by Michael's best team. Ian had nothing to stress about, especially security. Since Anthony, save Ian, is one of the foremost "cast" of the recent skirmish, he'll be facing confirmations to substantiate a report necessary to press those who are truly liable. Since Anthony's recovery and until now, Federick will fill his spot momentarily. And as Anthony revealed, a team of special agents, consisting of five, were posed to reinforce his safety.

No doorbell but a knock disturbed the drifty mood Ian was succumbing to.

"Ian!? You there?" a booming voice penetrated the thick oak wood door.

Ian sighed, broom still on his right hand. He felt slightly stupid for carrying it until he was about to open the door. He quickly snatched a second to place it quickly around the kitchen and got back behind the door. Upon opening the door a towering man beamed handsomely and greeted him. Federick looked always presentable and professional at all times. His dark, raven hair was exactly the same cut he remembered when he first met him. His coal black eyes looked piercing as usual. His pale skin contrasted the darkness shade of his hair and eyes which was cool as it accentuates his features. Sometimes Ian had to fight the urge to punch Federick straight in the face to see if he bleeds, just to verify if he was human.

"Just in time I guess?" Federick probed.

"Err, you're fifteen minutes early." Ian responded, staring briefly on his watch. When he saw Federick suddenly wore a vacant face and not budging a bit he immediately jested.

"Come in you dork!" Both of them laughed.

While Ian led Federick in he can't help but notice the familiar whiff of perfume he puts on. It was the same scent he smelled during his days attending to Anthony's weak state. Fragrance never appealed to Ian, but something of Federick's perfume made him felt nostalgic and extremely relaxed. He recalls the scent but can't remember where.

"Do you want breakfast?" Ian invited, moving around the kitchen, while Federick laid his shoulder bag on a couch. Federick refused Ian's offer, shaking his head in response.

"Can I please make you a coffee then for these entire nuisance?" Ian insisted on something to which Federick chuckled and agreed. The word nuisance impacted him differently. Ian moved towards the cupboard and reached for a distinct roast coffee, removing the seal and scooping some good helping into the coffee maker. Surprisingly, Federick noticed him procuring two saucers and teacups. " _He'll have coffee too?_ " Federick ruminated, scratching his beard, as if he knew what Ian normally drank during and between conversations. He further confirmed this as the amount of ground coffee Ian scooped was too much for a single person.

Ian can't help but sense Federick eyeing him. He felt a bit insecure. He felt the same when Anthony was doing such act, but Federick was quite different. When he caught his eyes, Federick didn't even blink or flinched, he grinned instead. It was as if he wanted Ian to get a glimpse of him gazing straight at him.

"Don't stare at me like that." Ian confronted.

Federick scoffed and budged a bit from his seat.

"What's funny?" Ian asked, sounding tough and serious. The other guy remained silent and shook his head, smiling. Ian, although annoyed a bit, instead took the broom he left beside the refrigerator.

"Were you cleaning?" Federick immediately inquired, furrowing his brows.

"Yeah I was." Ian answered stiffly.

"Relax Ian. You're being too tense, I don't understand why." Federick quickly interjected. Ian realized the sudden crack of his temperament. He reminded himself to maintain his cool. Maybe he was just being an outspoken person that straightforwardness was a normal knack for him. He suspects Anthony's absence is a direct cause of his mood swing. Maybe Federick's presence bothers him. Is the house not too clean yet? It felt mixed up and confusing and it annoys him even more. He realized being rude will do no good. Ian took a deep but not so obvious deep breath. There's a guest and he needed to act the part properly.

"Sorry, don't mind me. I think I'm like this when he's not around." Ian apologized, revealing his reasons honestly, and quickly vanished in sight, carrying with him the broom he held recently. When he got back, his face swiftly changed to a friendlier visage Federick recognized long ago.

"Stop worrying too much." Federick explained, as if it was the right phrase Ian needed for the moment. Ian's disposition shifted to a slightly exuberant phase.

"We have people trained to handle situations like this. It's not the first in history." Federick explained.

Ian took the coffee and poured it to both teacups and served one to Federick. He took a jar of milk and a canister of sugar.

"So you're drinking coffee." Federick suspected.

"Of course I do." Ian answered, sounding surprised and not too defensive. But Ian found it off. He never drank coffee with Anthony. He guessed this was the first time he did it, but with someone else. Federick snapped him out of brief musing. He prattled about how his predecessors, specifically the 7th successor experienced the same situation he and Anthony is in now.

"I've only heard a summarized version, a tad bit of detailed ones so don't draw too much comparison and conclude things." Federick guided Ian, but the latter shook his head, sighing.

"Would you accompany me?" Ian muttered and stood, finishing his cup of coffee. Firstly, Federick was a bit surprised by his disinterest. Maybe it's in Ian's nature to not question things too much. Federick assumed it an inherent nature of him. Secondly he can tell the eagerness of Ian to venture outside. He can tell the freedom radiating in him. Maybe Anthony's triumph unshackled the restraints of Ian. He was always excited to go outside before, but the feel was always different.

"Where?" Federick asked interestingly.

"To the mall?" Ian answered honestly.

"You had his…" Federick frowned, trying to confirm something.

"Permission?" Ian finished. "Yeah. Even if we're miles away, Anthony knows. I don't know what hit him to act so cool and powerful but I trust him."

"All right we'll be…strolling around then." Federick smiled. Ian can't find to be angry with this guy if he just focused his eyes on him. Federick possessed some distinct form of charisma that he can tell apart from any other people he met.

* * *

Anthony regards colossal court halls and immense auditoriums. It amazes him how humans managed to build such scale of beauty. The structural layout and important foundation impressed him how intellectual people can be in league of evolving time. But what contained these brilliant creations despised him. To be more specific, those that used it. The politic-driven board members and collective bodies that used these Hipstein architectures never ticked his interest. Vexing and tedious might be an understatement. All the excruciating spouts and jabbers, mindless dialogues and cold decreeing eyes looking down upon him gave him the hidden spite. The abhorrence he harbors was similar to the intently revulsion he directed against Michael. The plain sight of people who assume power and grant judgment never drew him. Their sorry presence always reminded him of freedom disguised as being separated from the world's grip. Liberty is timed. One's life is a trade for such measly independence they proudly call a price.

Anthony's line of sight tore the illuminating beams of sunlight passing solemnly through a grandiose glasswork, reflecting an imposing myriad of piercing colors and ageless history. His eyes appreciated the beauty of such natural art, but his senses, despite the absence of seeing, esteemed the leisurely flow of particles and space. It was clearer. The vividness of his surroundings felt more united. Before his absoluteness continued, his abstraction was broken by a familiar ring of his cellphone. It didn't surprise him to hear the ringtone. The notification was exclusively assigned to a person that tied all what his life meant.

"Same place Anthony." a familiar man's voice lingered.

"Alright." Anthony responded flatly and strode away from the ironic scene of courtroom he admired and hated.

It only took ten minutes for him to arrive. Before, it was the place where this person who called him slapped the truth of his feelings for Ian. A weird lump of discomfort formed inside his throat. Anthony ignored the annoying sensation. As expected, the silhouette of a man emanated from the right portion of the large room he just went in. Déjà vu.

"I know things won't go down the drain easily, but our people will manage." Michael said in his signature hollow tone. Anthony scoffed in return to which the other obviously ignored. Honestly, Anthony is chilled by how Michael consistently delivers the hollowness of his demeanor. Yes, it was an impenetrable tactical scheme. But from the memories of his trials, he can't seem to draw similarity between the man who suffered and sacrificed everything in the past from the person he sees right now. Had he became truly a monster? Yes. Only patience can guide him to reverse the fate he'd ruefully chosen. Anthony only felt pity.

"Coffee?" Michael offered signaling him towards the pantry.

"Sure, as if I could refuse." Anthony muttered sarcastically. He knew that he needed to cut his sardonic attitude and extract information, revelation or whatever Michael has in store for him right now. Aside from an infuriating revelation he just found, there is something in the air smells important concern.

As detailed and carbon copied Anthony could remember it, Michael prepared coffee in a similar but a bit different fashion the last time he talked to him in the same room.

"Are you happy with your new place?" Michael stalled. As much as Anthony wanted to repress his derisive behavior he cut him curtly.

"Is that seriously what you want from me right now?"

Michael didn't budge. He remained focused, preparing coffee while Anthony pressed his words with the weight candor.

"Cut the chase old man I know _he's_ there."

Michael remained impassive letting Anthony's indictment linger in the air. He was impressed by the sharpness of Anthony's senses. He knew he would be pointing that out. Michael wanted him.

"Why didn't you tell me soon?" Anthony demanded, his temper slowly rising but he suppressed further upon seeing Michael's detached expression. A clash of thoughts warred inside him. This guy is up to something or is he that callous enough to deny any sense of reason? A shade of emotion?

"I owed that _man_ a lot. Intervening was an option I won't pass." Michael muttered in thick, unperturbed voice. He sipped his coffee and placed the cup as if to reveal something else. Anthony frowned as Michael sauntered in front of him, opposite the counter and sat face to face with the reigning sentinel of this generation.

"Aside from _that_ I have other pressing matters to point out." Michael noted. "Nathall was the sun and light. Alfred was the cold and darkness. _He_ meant a lot to you and Ian, but his existence should no longer concern you." Michael said in a surgically cold and cryptic voice. Anthony could only furrow his brows in irritation.

" _What else crap does Michael have? Is this seriously what he wanted me to feel after finding out that my predecessor was still alive? What the fuck is with this geezer?"_ Anthony suppressed the act of screaming his frustration and shot a deadly gaze. It annoyed him even more when Michael remained expressionless and undaunted. And reason struck him. Anthony kept his composure and tried and hoped to maintain in employing a civil method. This is Michael. A person…no a monster used to mind games, tricks or any multi-layered bullshits and balderdashes. Composure is your primary weapon and shield. Anthony allowed it to flow inside his senses. This has to be dealt with a cool head.

"Look, I just had a great moment this day so…please what is it you want from me right now?"

Few seconds drifted before Michael asked Anthony which the latter, of course, always find strange.

"Shut your senses for a moment Anthony. Trust me. Do this favor for me."

Anthony couldn't tell exactly what Michael is up to but something tells him that abiding was feasible. He probably didn't need to sense things around Ian. Besides there was Federick, trustworthy and powerful enough to take his stead momentarily. What is Michael trying to verify now? Before he stuffs his head with worries he complied with his mentor.

"Lay your hands, palms upward." Michael further instructed.

Somewhere inside Anthony's head toyed the idea that Michael might do some fortunetelling. Is Michael such a guy? As of this moment? Anthony was too dumbfounded. At least the thought brightened his mood briefly until Michael quickly intercepted his train of thoughts by sighing.

"What is it?" Anthony said curiously.

"As I thought…" Michael declared, stood and moved to procure a glass of water.

"What?" Anthony asked, a bit aggravated. There was an uncomfortable silence hanging. Anthony hated it, he knows what it's like. It felt like gaping in a dark expecting a jump scare.

"As expected Aucelus' oath was ironclad. He failed to plant it against Ian but he had you instead." Michael declared while Anthony responded only with a frown, but his insides knotted.

"What are you exactly telling me?" Anthony asked once more.

"I suspected it when I saw you in the courtroom hours ago. I only confirmed it now." Michael explained further. Anthony wasn't too stupid, he knows what he meant, but disbelief prevents him from accepting it. He needed confirmation. Another sore silence floated in the air until Michael muttered again.

"Your days are nearing to an end Anthony…" Michael said indifferently.

Anthony felt afloat. He couldn't register clearly what Michael was saying. He never felt the joke and silliness ever from this man. He tried altering his senses, reading carefully his surroundings, verifying if everything around including himself is real. Is this a dream? No and it hit him. Something did feel off. The ominous feel always clutching. It was harbored inside him until this man affirmed it.

"Your soul is fading. Normal is anything but a disguise."

Wordless, Anthony remained immobile. He recalled the dreams during his recovery. He never believed what dreams meant. But he had an open mind. There isn't anything in this world he is living that is not impossible. It clicked. It wasn't all too easy beating the unknown. Even if it ended it just opened another chapter of choices. Did he really think that even though he felt more powerful and in control right now that something may not be wrong? Normal is anything but a disguise. The last phrase from Michael echoed.

Anthony didn't even have the urge to finish his coffee. Although Anthony didn't see it initially and for the rarest moment, Michael looked concerned. He wanted someone, even Michael, to snap him out of his emotional trance and tell him it was just a joke. But nothing came. The whiff of silence remained in the air. Truth hangs like a final judgment to be passed.

"What about… _him_?" Anthony implored, pretending to rub his eyes.

Michael didn't budge. He placed his glass of water and sighed.

"I'll figure something."

"How long do I have?"

"Less than two years." Michael told him directly.

Anthony smiles although his eyes didn't express the same.

Long seconds of silence again.

"Can I see Alfred?"

"In the right time. For now live everyday like it's your last with Ian."

* * *

"Oh shit look at that lady." Ian said excitedly, trying to contain his amusement. He grabbed Federick by the wrist and directs him to his point of hilarity and snickered. A woman absurdly dressed, revealing her plump body and discomfortingly inconvenient way of handling it while walking back and forth mumbling to her exaggeratedly large smart phone. Her lipstick and make-up made it even more a sight to behold. Federick shook his head. He honestly didn't find it funny but he couldn't help smiling seeing Ian shaming someone at a distance.

"Come on ma'am! You absolutely have no business in our agency." Ian mimicked a booming voice, gazing at the security guard who stood in front of a large salon and looked stunned by the presence of the woman.

"You've got the wrong ticket to vouch for lady." Ian continued harassing, shaking his head and looked haughty.

"I think you're drunk." Federick accused Ian, who responded with a frown and scoff.

"Come on stop it, let's go somewhere."

"Alright I'm sorry. Sorry ma'am." Ian apologized; even to the lady he was secretly insulting.

"That's terrible Ian." Federick tried lecturing while they both strode along the mildly crowded hallway of the mall.

"I'm just trying to enjoy here mister."

Federick arched his brows, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"I said I was sorry okay? I didn't mean any of it." Ian said contritely.

"What do you want to eat?" Federick said, forgetting instantly Ian's indecent behavior lately.

"Not really hungry, you cool for ice cream?" Ian offered.

"That's fine." Federick agreed and they bought probably the most expensive type of gelato ice cream. Pity might be a part of their choice or convenience was the most appropriate reason since the booth didn't have too much people queuing and Ian hated waiting.

Walking was tiring for Ian. Luckily he found one empty bench chilling around a fountain attraction nicely placed in the center of the mall's grand atrium. Federick was following him when he noticed an instant oddness on Ian. Ian sensed a couple few meters away from them and almost the same distance as with them from the empty bench. It was a battle of speed of course. After Ian shot a deadly gaze at the couple, the guy who held her girlfriend firmly sent him an unfriendly stare. Ian grabbed Federick's wrist and sped off, dragging him in the process. Ian succeeded. He licked happily his gelato ice cream and smirked over the couple. Federick can't help but chuckle.

"You just didn't piss that pair did you?"

"Why? I can't afford letting this lovely seat for a cozy space for some couple to smooch. My feet protests and I have to be selfish." Ian explained, almost finishing his ice cream.

"You're acting really childish." Federick shook his head but tittered.

"It's nice being childish some…oh well, most of the times."

"Cute."

"What?"

"I said that's cute."

"What?" Ian feigned. Federick frowned and sighed.

"You're cute."

"Thanks." Ian grinned not minding a stain of ice cream smearing his beard to which Federick offered a piece of tissue. Ian creased his brows in confusion until Federick gestured his own beard and thank goodness he got what he implied. Federick smiled but unknowingly stopped eating his ice cream until Ian broke his stupor.

"You're going to finish that?" Ian said, eyeing over Federick's ice cream.

"Yeah." Federick collected his cool and noticed Ian staring at him, well at his ice cream.

"You want this?" Federick eyed him, undecided.

"Of course not. That's just gross. You have saliva all over that thing." Ian said incredulously. Federick laughed, picking up a tissue.

"Then go get yourself another one."

Ian only shot him a disapproving look.

"You're one lazy dog aren't you?"

"Maybe I'll get some pretzels." Ian ignored him, extending his head and ogling at the pretzel booth few meters away from the gelato ice cream stand they went recently.

"You want one?" Ian offered to which Federick shook his head, resigned to eating anything else other than the one currently in his hands.

"I'm done adding more calories in my body today."

Ian rolled his eyes. "No wonder you have a gorgeous physique eh?" He was damn well sure even now that Federick was always wary of his diet. This came out a normal observation but he confirmed it a lot of times. One moment he saw him coming out of his room with just a towel wrapped around his waist and Ian was stunned by the unquestionably well-built stature of Federick's body. Ripped and muscular, no wonder he had the most straightforward and disciplined eating and self-grooming habit compared to anyone he met, even Anthony. His eating patterns are way strictly scheduled and Ian finds his messed up diet to be total garbage in comparison to Federick. Even with clothes on anyone can instantly tell the guy's healthy shape. Federick wears long sleeves most of the time, accentuating well his not too brawny but adequately fit body. Is he really just a doctor? Ian sometimes asks. Of course he is a soldier. Physical discipline is a strict requisite.

"Thanks." Federick beamed handsomely to which Ian shifted his gaze immediately, afraid getting sucked by the man's almost allusive smile.

"I thought you're not hungry." Federick pointed out.

"I'm not." Ian answered and walked away.

Although Federick is relaxed by the casually friendly behavior Ian is exhibiting he didn't fail to put his guard to the fullest. Time to time he scan his surroundings. Of his caliber, he can cover the entire mall's area and with few more yards outside the mall's perimeter. He never kept his eyes away from Ian. He can tell from a distance how people behave around his subject. A man in baby blue sleeves and white khaki pants casually talks from his cellphone. A lady conversed to her friend nearby, prattling about home renovations and tidbits of neighborhood gossip. A janitor politely excused behind a group of ladies to empty a bin almost brimming full of garbage. Three teenage boys exchanged ideas about a game called Call of Duty. Everyone was negative of threat, except for a well suited man who happens to be in a phone. This man was particularly suspicious because of the sweat dribbling from his temples, eyes unfocused and his phasing is erratic. He can tell though that this one is just a normal human being. Federick was not the type who jumps into conclusion. Judging is not a tool for instant decisions. Wisely, Federick is trained to deal with unpredictability. Underestimating is also not allowed, because even a normal human can technically kill Ian.

" _Negative"_ He finally absolved. "But I'm not dropping my eye on you mister."

"Did I just hear you talking by yourself?" Ian suddenly broke Federick's momentary weirdness. Of course Federick saw him so his concentration wasn't disoriented but he pretended to act nonchalantly. Ian however was not fooled.

"Sentinel's habit eh?" Ian tried describing, offering Federick a bottle of water.

"Thanks." Federick reached for the water and can't help to notice four large pretzels in Ian's hands. He accusingly shot a glimpse at him, almost gloating.

"I was hungry." Ian admitted, flashing a derpy smile.

When Ian was about to finish his second pretzel his cellphone rang.

"Oh, can you hold this for me?"

Federick obliged and snatched the pretzels out of Ian's hand. Ian licked his fingers and wiped them with tissue. He grabbed his phone inside his jeans and answered the call.

"Hey…what? Well that's…" Ian peered over his wristwatch. "Four hours early. Yeah, we're still here." Ian dropped his phone, tucked it back in his jeans and smiles at Federick.

"You look like you won a prize." Federick muttered after drinking.

"He's done already. Earlier than I expected." Ian can't help hiding his enthusiasm. Soon Federick noticed the familiar cramping of Ian's hand. He was cold.

"Stay for dinner." Ian stated. It wasn't even a question but rather a final statement.

"Since I'm denied any protest why not, right?" Federick prattled with tad bit of mockery. Until he saw Ian rubbing his hands and putting them under his legs that Federick offered his hands. Ian gazed at them for a few seconds, looking doubtful and hesitant. He was ashamed. During Anthony's recovery, Federick didn't actually know too much how to fend off regularly an heir's unusual body coldness. He was a free agent. Only true heirs exhibit such symptoms. It was a curse, yes. Everytime he sees Ian experiencing it he always felt uncomfortable. Not that he felt uncomfortable to make him warm, but the thought of curse coursing through him disturbs him. Death disturbs him. He wondered how Anthony can keep up with such job psychologically and emotionally.

"This is really annoying." Ian sighed, grinning faintly.

Federick returned only with a smile…weak behind, but strong and reassuring for Ian to see.

Anthony appeared, finding it odd for two men seating in a bench located at the center of a mall's atrium holding hands. Federick did expect him. Few seconds before Ian noticed Anthony that Federick shot him a glance. Expectedly, he knew Anthony was focusing on him. Their eyes met. Federick smiled and Ian saw Anthony. He beamed profusely.

"There you are." Ian said, pulling his hands unknowingly from Federick's grip. "I'm not even asking how you traced us. You had this _godly_ sensing skills right?" Ian added sarcastically to which Anthony responded only by rolling his eyes.

"Hey." Anthony greeted Federick who nodded in return. "Shall we? Anthony shot glances back and forth between the two.

"Can I have a special request?" Ian plighted, standing up from his seat and Federick followed.

"What?" Anthony eyed him non-chalantly while Federick remained silent, intently waiting.

"Will you and Federick be in charge of tonight's dinner?"

"Sure." Anthony said flatly.

"Much obliged." Federick replied pointblank after Ian gazed at him.

Anthony knew Ian was always dense. While walking out of the mall's atrium he noticed Ian conveniently placed himself between him and Federick. Ian automatically held Anthony's right hand and by the time Anthony sensed correctly, Ian did the same with Federick's left and Anthony felt a burning sensation flickering instantly inside his chest. He knows what it is and he disliked it.

* * *

"How's your arm?" Michael said. Surprisingly his tone didn't have sparseness. He sounded stern but kind. He stood in front of a large window, staring outside the vast lawn, steadying his gaze while uttering such inquiry. Behind him was a man seated in a wooden chair. It was particularly cushioned and shaped in a way to give comfort. The man only sighed. His green eyes shifted from the open space shown by the window to Michael.

"Did he recognize you?" Michael asked. Seconds of silence drifted until Alfred muttered, almost exhausted but the reason behind is lively. His face didn't look gaunt but appeared transcendental. His entire hair turned almost gray. Albeit his eyelids were droopy, a glimpse of his emerald green eyes looked resolved and powerful.

"Pity he's under some spell, but…"

Michael turned, facing the man who dutifully served him from time immemorial.

"He did recognize me." Alfred said under his breath but managed to smile. Michael scoffed almost inaudibly and started walking towards Alfred's side.

"He's practically like your brother." He patted Alfred's shoulder. "Rob might have been proud to see him."

"Rob did see him." Alfred replied knowingly. Michael paused and curved his lips into a faint smile.


	13. Chapter 13 - (Final) Inseparable

**And so it comes to this.**

 **CHAPTER 13: INSEPARABLE**

Anthony had to fight the urge of ruining anyone's day. But it's not a will…it's an uncontrollable compulsion. His reflex kicks in quicker than his mind can even formulate reasoning. He never felt being moody ever until these recent days. Not that he has many people to encounter but the narrowed selections made it exacerbating. His piercing glare and sharp words wouldn't sting the least. But there is an endless battle inside him. He needed to maintain order. During the early phases he only had two problems: his feelings for Ian and a looming threat, dangerous that he'd ever imagine. Now, former remains and the latter were supplanted by an equally dreading predicament. Why can't he just shove and pour his feelings for Ian? Part of the reason might be his incapability to muster the strength. The irony is, while Anthony possess impeccable prowess in fighting, his relationship aspect is subpar. Added to the fact that he discovered Alfred's continued existence, he also knew of Michael's recent revelation. It pressures him to the edge.

The last one hit him hardly. Not knowing when will be your death felt entirely different than otherwise.

"… _live everyday like it's your last with Ian."_ Michael's last words echoed.

However there is some measly, annoying reason why he's being such a babbling, capricious, grouchy douche—Federick. A competition. He can't devise a wise plan to eliminate him in the picture. Federick's increasing involvement in their lives was all because of Ian. His own subject, best friend and object of love, is none other than the culprit that slowly transformed him into this prickly, messy fool. Part of the perpetrator accusation about Ian is true. The thing is Ian never deliberately involved Federick in their lives. He was just…fascinated by him.

Anthony simply can't fathom the fact that his best friend is spending time with someone else. Was he being selfish? Yes he is. Is it justifiable? Certainly not. They're best friends. No rule is imposed to limit Ian's social access anyway, if and only if his safety is jeopardized, which is entirely ridiculous and out of the question. A burning lurch of irritation formed inside his stomach.

He's now in this preposterous situation of overanalyzing how this happened. There were notably a lot of openings in Ian's time that Federick potentially can slip in. Now he thinks of it, most of the time he and Ian just laze around, slouched like sloths minding their own stuff. Those were openings and Federick conveniently takes the spot. Anthony decided, well rather, needed to increase his activity to fill this spots.

Before, he gladly accepted and highly regarded Federick for taking his place temporarily. He was honestly grateful for him during his recovery. But he never expected, or imagined in the least, that this might be the guy who will steal Ian from him!

" _Relax. These are silly things. Breathe."_ Anthony panted, containing his ire. He can't believe he reached this point of irritation that he spent hours just thinking about it.

Anthony remembered he felt a little cranky from someone else who got close to Ian—Menzies. Although he now thought of it, his moodiness didn't escalated to this one, and now he thinks about it, Federick is undeniably a hell of a guy too. He felt torn between being an important person in Ian's life and just being dumped behind. Ian never missed playing video games with him, eating donuts with him, watching movies, shopping for weird merchandise or finding silly stuff in the internet. When that lengthy, idle time kicks in, Ian is suddenly busy, busy with someone else, busy with Federick!

Few weeks ago clashes between him and Federick didn't went unnoticed from Ian's observing eyes. One time Ian had to awkwardly intercept a race of pride between the two on whose better to deduce the simple actions of normal people roaming within their sensory reach. Speaking of sensory, Anthony was too proud to boast the quality of his sensing skills. He knows the limit of Federick's sensory perimeter. Though he'll narrow down his sensing power to the size of Federick's capacity he did not reveal that his sensory powers got more concentrated. This stretched to other areas too. He'd even at times prattle a lot something clearly known only between him and Ian to stress his intimacy, peculiarly putting Federick out of place. Even simple things like tea and coffee could escalate into a feud between them. Even the choice of donut glazing, perfect toast or the right aged cheese became a silly competition.

It was until that Anthony's suggestive actions came into words that Ian had to step in and put an end to it. Federick didn't really race against Anthony. He did like Ian but it was naïve to think he'll ever have Ian for life. He accepted such fact and won't push further. Anthony liked the agony of Federick's reception but Ian didn't. Possessiveness and jealousy has no place to put someone else at a sorry state. Ian never liked letting people feel bad about them. He may be mischievous and tricky but never will he put someone emotionally uneasy, especially in a rude, hostile way. He's too kind to undeservingly hurt anyone.

Anthony didn't expect the frequent reprimands from Ian. All conversations that involved Federick put him at great uneasiness which Ian liked. Torturing Anthony of his petty immaturities was more of a revenge and…confirmation. _"What is really happening here?_ " Ian repeatedly asks. Oddness consumes Anthony and he's left no words for defense. Anthony recoiled, contorting his lips a bit. He wanted to punch Federick. It was childish. He knows he can beat that dude in pulp in an instant but then he knows he just can't. It's simply barbaric. He needed to play this carefully.

" _You need to do this in a civil way man."_ Anthony whispered to himself, discarded the idea and shook his head with an obvious grunting "Naah".

"Are you talking to yourself again?" Ian suddenly popped inside the living room, witnessing Anthony's odd musing.

" _Shit! Busted again!"_ Anthony panicked mentally.

"This's been happening a lot recently, what is really the problem here Ant?" Ian demanded, not even caring to consider any personal space because this is Anthony, his Anthony. Ian can literally ask him anything if he wanted to. If Ian wanted to be such a stubborn dick he can always be. Anthony can't simply refuse.

Anthony sighed, closed his eyes and thought for an instant what was truly important. Thankfully it hit him. Federick was just the bottom of it. What he is acting right now is just plain immature. There is a pressing matter needed to be addressed. The problem is how and when?

While Ian bustled around the kitchen to prepare tea he kept his keen eyes concentrated on his Sentinel, demanding in silent, sharp gaze for an answer.

Ian snapped. He was too impatient especially what happened these past weeks.

"Hey!" Ian bellowed slamming at the same time the bag of Earl Grey tea he reached difficulty above the cupboard. Anthony jumped from his floaty reverie and turned his head towards his subject, evidently shocked. It was uncharacteristically of Ian. He never lost patience this instantly, particularly from Anthony. Ian's best friend remained stunned, unable to mutter a word.

"Can you come over here for a second?" Ian said imperiously. Anthony obliged, sauntering like a scared child towards the kitchen. He never felt unsettled and flabbergasted in his life. There was something in Ian's aura that made him cringe and just shut his mouth.

After Ian settled the tea bags, he fetched the heater, put water in it and started boiling. Three minutes until the water is hot for his tea that he needed to reprimand Anthony of his chain of weird behaviors. Ian steadied himself. He poked his left arm against the counter while arching his right in his pelvis. He glared towards Anthony who swallowed his spit and seemingly can't break his gaze too from Ian's crystal blue eyes. There's no mistaken. There was serious anger flaring in Ian's eyes. Anthony knows how he made this happen. Ian sighed and started.

"Why do you have to be rude? I don't know what to say Ant. I'm embarrassed for him and for you. What were you thinking? And what was that just now? Are you planning an attack again?"

Anthony remained silent. Inside his head he can hear Ian but he was also lost into deep contemplation. He surgically accomplished this because he never lost Ian's respect to keep chastising. When he's angry he is talkative. Anthony liked that. But when he's really angry he refuses to talk. Anthony was glad that Ian's in the former version of crossness. While Ian continued castigating, Anthony unintendedly lost himself in trance. He needed to do this right. Step out and reach before everything is too late.

"… _live everyday like it's your last with Ian."_ Michael's word reverberated inside his head. It finally dawned on him. Forget Federick, may be even forget your feelings for Ian. He needed legacy. He needed to leave something that would keep Ian going if he's not beside him anymore. For the first time, he thanked the man truthfully. Michael may not be around to receive Anthony's heartfelt gratefulness but he's lucky that finally this Sentinel would embrace his final advice.

"Are you listening?" Ian seemed to notice Anthony's masquerade. He shook his head and stopped talking, angrily seizing a tea bag and grabbed a mug below the dish cupboard. He began preparing his tea nevertheless but not even sure if he had the enthusiasm to drink it. Anthony knew he'll just be walking out and he needed to do something before this escalates to something he'll definitely regret. He didn't like Ian going on his second version of crossness.

"I was wrong…" Anthony began apologizing. It was leisurely but his facial expression was enough to solicit audience from Ian.

"I'm sorry for acting really immature." Anthony admitted.

"You should be." Ian said sternly. His face didn't displayed compassion but he nonetheless focused and listened carefully. He deserved explanation from him after all.

Anthony is thankful that Ian was the type who is always childish for petty things but get entirely mature and serious when everything went grim.

"There's something I need to tell you." And Anthony realized it was harder than he thought. He beckoned his best friend to sit but Ian refused.

"What is it?" Ian frowned, not breaking his gaze from Anthony's dark brown eyes, and for the first time he saw something behind Anthony's eyes that indicated extreme importance. It was a very rare vulnerability Ian saw. All the years he's been always behind Anthony, he never saw him susceptible to anything; well maybe he wasn't paying too much attention. Mystery only kept him anxious but invulnerable. The battle with the Gades was just an unknown hitch. Anthony faced it bravely. He won. But right now? Ian saw softness and fear. He's obviously clueless as to what it is. Ian resolved, to be in front of him and take whatever he'll reveal. He'll take it. He's his best friend. If this is the least he could do for someone who risked his life to save his then he'll do it for him.

Anthony shifted his head. He tried stalling; gathering bits of strength to pour himself. He blinked, appreciating even more the solemn pacing of dust hovering beautifully from the ray of light peaking from their kitchen windows. He turned his brown eyes towards his subject's patient and intently blue eyes. Anthony feebly smiled. He can feel the warmth forming in his face. This was serious. Ian knows the shift of his face. The delicate intricacy and gravity Anthony's eyes are showing.

"Federick was just a petty excuse." Anthony tried jesting but failed quickly.

"You think so?" Ian said halfheartedly.

"I was arrogant, unpleasantly rude and uncomprehendingly inconsiderate. I'm sorry." Before Ian could add a thought Anthony immediately confessed. "I'll apologize to him personally."

Seconds of silence went in. Ian was convinced by Anthony's sincerity. He nodded and didn't say a word. His attention still focused on Anthony, waiting for more. The next thing Anthony said broke some form of barrier between him and Ian. It felt scary and overwhelming but it had to be done any soon. Choice of words was harder to formulate but saying it was the hardest part.

"I…" Anthony paused, staring resolutely over Ian's concerned visage.

"…I won't be around you anymore." Anthony fought barely to shed any tear. Ian liked to think that his Sentinel is resigned to distance himself from him now. It makes sense. He felt stupid for being too thick. Federick made him green-eyed, envious of his sudden company. But he quickly threw the notion. Only that? It sounded really absurd. Where would he go? It's silly. Anthony is his Sentinel. He is bound to be with Ian while he's still alive no matter what happens. Is he leaving me because of Federick? It is plausible but was just plain stupid. Is he having a vacation? A training? Training? What else for? There's no more war, and he's considerably more powerful now. A Sentinel's vow is more ironclad than their emotions. Ian still saw that rare vulnerability in Anthony's eyes. He is still led to believe that something of grave nature is behind this. Ian waited patiently.

"What are you trying to say?" The words were slow and careful. Anthony's stomach burned and he tried very hard to hold back his tears again. Ian noticed this and strode towards his best friend, seating adjacent to him finally. "You want to try this?" Ian offered the tea. Anthony weakly nodded and reached for it, sipping.

Ian wanted to hold Anthony or maybe embrace him but it felt off. He's never been around Anthony for such times like this. Instead, Anthony was the one who's always there beside him, comforting him. Ian's cursed life had been dragging him all his life to an endless loop of sadness. Ian always felt drowning under a freezing, miserable pool of cold water. Who was there to pull him out always? Ian succeeded when Anthony was there offering the constancy of his warm friendship and care. Anthony was there for him to savor the fun and freedom the world has to offer. Could he return the favor? Of course he can.

"Aucelus's last card was meant for you." Anthony said dimly. "I protected you from it. I succeed...but…for a price."

Ian wasn't too dense. He tried the hardest to register what Anthony is implying.

"Are you trying to tell me you're?" Ian felt a lump of discomfort forming in his throat. He couldn't say it. It was just wrong, plain wrong. But he was right. " _If that's what you're telling me then why are you here?"_ Ian mentally argued, pleaded for any justification. He looked for any reason. Formulate anything to mitigate what his best friend is saying. He wanted someone to say a counter argument or a solid punch in his face. This isn't a dream. Ian reminded himself. It slowly dawned on him, creeping gradually.

"What? How...when? What is…" Ian stuttered. Load of questions flooding him. He didn't even know where to start. Anthony tried calming him, not noticing that streaks of tears already smearing his face. Ian saw this at made him more scared. He never saw Anthony shed tears.

"H-hey, hey listen." Anthony found himself disoriented, unable to tell anything precise to ease the fear he casted to his friend. But he needed to be brave, to reassure him that it's still going to be fine. That Ian needed to keep going on, even if it means without him. Anthony looked him straight in the eye. Although Ian is unable to cry he's eyes were filled with fear and apprehension.

"Ian! Listen to me. There's nothing I can do about it, no one, not even the old man." Anthony breathed. "But you'll keep living, that's what's important." The words even felt daunting. Clearly, Anthony was unprepared for this. Ian furrowed his brows, looked away from his best friend, suppressing any burst of feeling he can't seem to understand or show very well. They were both unprepared.

"You're…" Ian frowned, breathing controllably. Anthony shook his head, biting his right index finger. He laid his hands and scratched the counter's wooden surface.

"That's what I signed up for anyway. I did my duty. Someone else would take my place." The final sentence made Anthony felt like a jerk. What else could he say? Stay silent? That's worst. He couldn't just hang the repercussion that he'll leave Ian alone forever. There would be someone who needs to take his place. It sounded like a bad attempt to reassure him but that's all he got.

It hurt even more. Ian maintained his unsteady gaze, trying to scratch reason. It might have been a joke. But there was nothing and he slowly succumbed. Anthony was disheartened that he was now crying. Ian shook his head, distancing from him slowly.

"So…we just…disappear?" Ian whispered, broken by the fate he's facing. Anthony's heart ached even more. Ian's life was forfeited for good. He expected it. But he never imagined that his own best friend, his protector, his family would suffer a similar fate. What's worst is he's deducing Anthony will leave earlier than him.

"Ian…" Anthony said softly.

Ian turned his back, sluggishly walking away. Anthony closed his eyes. There were storming mixtures of feelings brewing and battling inside Ian. Anthony couldn't even do anything to ease his pain. Ian walked away quickly towards the dimly lit corridor of their house. His steps were clumsy, almost drunken. Anthony followed, unsure what to do but he was determined to inch his distance from his subject so he could make sure that he'll not do anything stupid. Ian found his room and slammed the door shut. Anthony stood in silence, leaning his head against the door of Ian's room. He didn't even attempt opening it. Ian needed some space to breathe. Anthony respected that.

"I'm sorry…" Anthony whispered very inaudibly, placing his right hand against the door. He couldn't hear anything. From the other side, Ian couldn't fight crying. He needed to be strong even if it was just pretending. Maybe the least he could do for Anthony is to pretend being strong. All his life he was weak and stranded. Now, his only best friend is dying from some stupid curse or whatever bullshit his ancient family feud had caused. Ian grabbed a pillow, drowning his muffled sobs.

Outside, Anthony backed for a moment. He didn't even realize he was still crying. He sighed and sat beside the door, slumping on the floor, cupping his temples with his hands and closing his eyes. His heart literally aches. He felt helpless.

* * *

"You want more cinnamon?" Anthony offered. Ian shook his head and heaved a smile.

"We're more than two hours early." Ian checked his watch.

"That's good." Anthony said, grabbing two cups of coffee after paying his bill to the cashier.

The two of them walked along the elongated stretch of the first hallway of an airport. They've recently checked in and darted across the lobby, finding a small pastry shop where they bought coffee, egg bagels, eclairs and raspberry tarts. Ian was disappointed they didn't go for donuts. Anthony gladly passed, stating they need to try something new. Ian didn't argue. It's sweets anyway. He'll love it anyway.

There were few people walking by. They brought with them huge luggage that seemed to carry the rest of their life. Ian scoffed and Anthony asked. He only responded with "nothing".

After two escalators and few more feet of treading they finally arrived at the departure area. Luckily there weren't too many travelers to fill in the seats around. Anthony beckoned for Ian as he conveniently found a cozy spot not too close from the intermediary gate so people won't be towering them when they're preparing for the initial embarking. Ian hated rushing. It was pretty stupid for most people to be hurrying towards the lane just to be "first" in the line. He wanted to slap someone for being inconsiderately rude and arrogant, as if the plane would immediately leave once he/she's inside it. Foolish people nowadays are never in short supply.

Anthony handed Ian his coffee while Ian gave him his share of bagel and tarts. Anthony obviously noticed Ian withholding the eclairs and gave him the face. Ian shrugged and shoves a pile of newspaper for him to be busy. Anthony shook his head, ignoring his friend's gluttony spree.

An hour passed and Ian was flicking his Nintendo 3DS to play Monster Hunter 4. Anthony finished some few important pages of the Newspaper and finally ditched it, turning his attention to his friend.

"You're doing the frenzied virus version now huh?" Anthony commented.

"Yep." Ian replied, sticking and biting his tongue, apparently too engrossed by the difficulty imposed by Shagaru Magala. Ian noticed that Anthony didn't jabbered too much. He simply rested his chin over Ian's left shoulder while placing his arms behind him. He didn't put in too much weight of his head so he won't bother Ian.

"Damn that charge attack!" Ian grunted. Anthony chuckled.

Around ten minutes passed that Ian shut his 3DS and sighed.

"You don't want to play anymore?"

"This game is too tiring for me. How much time do we have?"

Anthony peered over his watched

"About forty minutes more."

Ian sighed. He didn't mind the long hours of travelling. He's just excited. It is probably written in his genes. Before he was born, his fate is already coursed to saving a soul of a man. Few months ago he accepted the tyranny and bitterness his ancestors withheld and waged war nobody deserved. Few weeks ago he accepted his best friend's prelude to farewell. It still stings a bit but he came to terms already. Life is extremely short. Ian didn't waste a single bit of it by being too dramatic. He loved every second of his life.

Sitting in a bench next to his best friend, his Sentinel…his life, Ian's gaze tore across the glass panels of the airport's departure area. The planes revving, alighting and flying felt oddly similar to his life. He leaves and comes back. Every trip carries memories he'll always carry. Even if his mind began to wither, he'll never forget. Even if his soul is finally sold, a part of this world's timeline will be testament to the life he outlived.

Anthony shuffled closer to Ian, while the other tucked his 3DS safely inside his backpack.

"You think they'll show up in the event?" Anthony inquired casually.

"Of course they do. They always do." Ian replied confidently.

When Ian noticed Anthony drifting into sleep he quickly slide in a note. "Oh so you're sleeping now huh?"

"You'll be in charge of protecting me now." Anthony teased, eyes shutting but he remained smiling. Ian jeered and it was the kind that received Anthony's joke warmly.

"I guess the coffee didn't kick in." Anthony excused.

"And you think it ever had an effect on you?"

"Come on Ian don't be such a prick. Gimme ten minutes kay?"

"What if somebody assaulted me?" Ian said matter-of-factly.

"That's foolish." Anthony countered, moving even closer to Ian, huddling and cuddling over his best friend. He placed his left hand over Ian's leg while inching his head even closer to him. Ian didn't really mind, warmth is the only thing he always needed and Anthony wasn't too selfish of that.

* * *

A cloudy Saturday enveloped the greenish expanse of St. Mary graveyard of Enniscorthy. It wasn't much of travel so Anthony was glad to bring Ian along with him. Anthony pertinently chose a simple bunch of irises and carnations to bring along with them. Ian expressed his impression of Anthony's choice for flowers as irises are very beautiful, even during gloomy days.

Graves bother Ian a bit. They were cold and solemn. Right now however, Ian has some form of eagerness to be in the presence of two persons they met since he and Anthony were very young. Ian heard every bit of information Anthony could share from his fateful encounter of the two. But Ian didn't harbor any form of resentment, instead he felt sadness ladled with compunction.

"We could have been good friends." Ian said in a longing voice and placed the flowers in each of the gravestones he and Anthony were reflectively gazing.

Few minutes passed and Anthony beckoned to Ian. They both left the place they were glad to be with right now but would never visit anymore again in the future.

* * *

"You'll just have to sign here, here and here." A man garbed in dark coat and tie suit prattled. He used his limited edition signing pen to point underlined marks of a less than half-inch thick pile of paper. They were disclosure contracts. Ian can't believe such things existed. He's not even sure he understood the whole thing. He bleakly remembered something similar before he met Anthony. Their parents did it for them.

An intermediary of Michael explained to him the rarity of their situation. From the structure of their generation such paper works are necessary to secure transparency but evidently of some other things. Ian didn't care. Arguing and questioning didn't matter. External and internal laws don't fool him. Whatever scholarly men grinding their ranks through various spheres have to explain, Ian didn't took heed.

"Are we done here?" Ian grunted.

"Yes." The man affirmed. He stood and handed an envelope. It contained the copies of the contracts Ian recently signed.

"I'll see you soon." The man stated indifferently.

"I'll escort you out." Ian politely said and strode with the man out of their house.

When the man finally disappeared Ian paced lazily around the living room. He scanned his surroundings; reliving the feel inside a place he called home. He'll manage to call it home still. With a final glimpse, Ian threw the envelope of contracts in the center table. It tapped the glass surface but didn't scatter or fall out of place.

He spent the remaining time before sleeping playing video games. When he got bored he tried watching news. He found some interesting clips but later opted for documentaries. There was one good piece stressing about large scale machineries, specifically roller coasters. He found it fascinating how sophisticated the structure of this amusement attraction has. Even the security system incorporated was more incredible. People were really inventive and evolving.

Ian was too lazy to cook for something elaborate so he decided to look for leftovers. There was particularly one still fresh. Scones and milk sounded good and so he added some frothy non-fat cream and fresh blueberries to make it more appetizing. Later though Ian grabbed a bag of jalapeno cheese poppers just to accompany his time killing of watching Youtube videos or scouring through Tumblr. Time seem very slow, was his mind playing tricks on him?

Few hours passed and he groomed himself accordingly. Night is falling deeper. He didn't like the frequency of coldness simultaneously creeping with time. He donned his sleeping robes and slumped to his bed. Ian wished for a timeless sleep. He longed for an opportunity to visit a place that is warmer and happier. Even if such desire is residing only somewhere in his head he might still be contented.

Few more hours passed and Ian finally slept alone in his bed. Outside his room few scuttles and creaks beat the silence. It was careful and surgical, the person was aware that he needed to be gentle. He did it successfully as Ian didn't even budge from his sleep. He slept like a baby. Anthony removed his scarf, undone his jacket, ditched his shoes and gloves and settled his other belongings.

Where he went didn't require him to groom thoroughly. Anthony washed his face and gargled. As per usual he did some scouting. Old habits die hard. Contented and tired, treaded the hallway languidly, proceeding to Ian's room. He was now sleeping beside his best friend for months now. They were inseparable. Anthony didn't turn the lights but he can illuminate Ian's back. He saw his subject clutching a pillow tightly and chuckled. He hopped in to the bed and crept slowly behind Ian. Ian sensed his arrival and only sighed. But it was a sigh of relief. Anthony smiled and slid his left arm between the pillow and Ian's neck. Next thing, he inched closer so his stomach is behind Ian's back. Anthony wrapped his right arm around Ian's waist and leaned his head behind Ian's thick hair smelling the cool fragrance of his shampoo. Ian abandoned his recently clutched pillow, he turned slowly, lying by his back and tilting his head towards Anthony whose chin scraped Ian's forehead lightly in the process. Ian's eyes lazily open and close as he could illuminate slightly Anthony's collarbone. He could smell Anthony's perfume. It lingered in his nostrils recalling so much of his character. Ian's bowl cut hair got messy from his shifting of position. Anthony raised his left arm to caress Ian's cluttered but smooth and soft hair. They both dreamed and drifted in each other's comfort.

Deep inside, Ian's mind finally marveled. They did belong only to each other. Anthony resolved into what they have right now. He didn't incline himself into pushing his feelings just to feel contented. He didn't abandon however what the two of them had for years avoiding their brink of sadness. Ian knew it's a matter of time before his last contact disappears. His heart pounded, but it was gentle and peaceful.

Anthony lingered for a moment, embracing his friend even more tightly. Anthony's right hand crept around Ian's rib while the other caught it, held it possessively. Anthony ensured that Ian was warm and calm. Until Anthony was sure his best friend is quietly asleep that he contentedly closed his eyes and joined him.

* * *

 **I take back a part of my promise to include in this story something intimately sexual between Ian and Anthony. If anyone noticed the gap of uploading Chapter 12 then good, because I had a change of heart during that time. Ianthony would indeed be my best OTP. They are so far the only real personalities out there to maintain their friendship as strong as ever. When I'm thinking about it, I realized that I was more comfortable of witnessing two persons closely bonded with each other and remained true friends forever rather than a couple. I admit I had the urge and fantasy of seeing them and even wanting them to be real couples for life! But I got so much real respect and admiration for these two's friendship that it was more satisfying seeing real friendship transpire before my eyes. I wanted Ian and Anthony to be together forever and I'm very proud that they are true, strong friends all this time around. I know I can't do justice for portraying a beautiful story about their pure friendship so if anyone can I'm glad I'm hoping and if anyone already did, I'm so glad I will be able to read it.**

 **A word of note about the ending: No, Anthony never revealed his feelings for Ian. For him it didn't matter. He knows Ian would never have someone else other than him, even if Anthony will depart sooner than him, and that he'll be alone physically in the human world. Ian may have Federick or someone else as replacement for Anthony but his bond with remains strong, unwavering. Ian knows Anthony will stay always and forever with him.**


End file.
